What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is
by bigkihap
Summary: Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Pro
1. The Past That Haunts

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

Disclaimer: All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

Summary: Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**Chapter One: The Past That Haunts**

A dark cloud had descended upon a quiet street in Surrey. However, this cloud contained no raindrops nor lightning that men could see, but it pervaded the life of number four Privet Drive nonetheless. The residence was extraordinary only in its ordinariness. The occupants were as straight-laced as they come. Yet, the cloud of despair made itself known to the only unique individual in the house.

Harry Potter had known loss all his life. His parents had died when he was but one year old. They had been wizards, as strange as that may be. It was a gift that had been passed onto Harry as well. The only connection Harry had with them were two physical reminders. The first was a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning hidden beneath a mop of untidy black hair; a souvenir from the wizard who had murdered his mother and father. The second was his aunt. Aunt Petunia, his mother's sister, was Harry's only surviving blood relative. On the few occasions Aunt Petunia had looked at him directly, Harry had never seen love behind her eyes. He only saw the reflection of a jealously despised sister and the son hated simply for being left behind.

The day Harry turned eleven years of age he discovered the truth about who he really was. A truth that his Aunt and her husband, Vernon Dursley, had tried desperately to conceal from him. So, Harry had spent the last five years attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It seemed at last that Harry was where he belonged. Hogwarts was a place where he could thrive and have no shame in being happy. But, it was not to last.

In Harry's fourth year at school he had been forced into yet another confrontation with the wizard who had orphaned him, Lord Voldemort. Another student had been with him and paid dearly for nothing more than standing at Harry's side. Cedric Diggory had not really been a friend of Harry's, so to speak, but he was a pure and kind individual. The memory of Cedric's blank, staring face and haunted him over the next two years. Though Harry had not thought himself directly responsible for Cedric's death, he could not shake the thought that Cedric would be alive if had Harry not been who he was.

Harry's last year had been torturous. People had doubted and blamed him. The Ministry of Magic felt threatened by him. All that was nothing compared to the feelings Harry would have to endure due to yet another loss in his life. Harry had lead six of his friends to the Department of Mysteries. It lay deep in the underbelly of the Ministry. Perceiving to be trying to save his godfather, Sirius, Harry had in fact been deceived. Sirius had been alerted of the deception and arrived at the Ministry in order to protect his godson. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that Harry's attempt to save his godfather indirectly led to his death. Harry had watched Sirius fall through the mysterious veil with a mix of laughter and shock lingering on his face.

Now, a month later, Harry was in the depths of despair. It seemed that death and loss followed him everywhere. _It's not fair_, Harry thought. The Order members that had stood up to Vernon Dursley at King's Cross had kept their word. Every three days someone would contact him. Harry appreciated the gesture, but longed to be left alone. All he wanted to do was mourn in the only way he knew how; to sink deeper into his loneliness.

Spiraling downward out of his contemplations, Harry became vaguely aware that the doorbell had rung below, but was too miserable to care. It was not until he heard his uncle's ridiculously loud ranting that he took any interest.

"HOW DARE YOU PEOPLE SHOW UP HERE UNINVITED?" Vernon Dursley yelled. Another person was speaking, but unlike his uncle, they had kept their voice calm and controlled. "IS IT NOT ENOUGH THAT YOU DUMPED HIM ON OUR DOORSTEP WITHOUT THIS CONSTANT INVASION INTO OUR LIVES?"

Harry could no longer resist the temptation. He slowly crept from his bedroom to see who had Uncle Vernon so irate. Initially he would have speculated that it would be Professor Dumbledore, or perhaps even Remus Lupin. Though he never could have guessed who the new arrival really was. As Harry peered cautiously over the banister to the entryway below, his eyes caught a glimpse of his aunt and uncle standing on either side of a formidable woman clad in a tartan overcoat.

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry heard himself ask before he could keep his voice in check.

"Mr. Potter," she acknowledged with a nod. "I was wondering if I might have a word with you?"

Harry shook his head in the affirmative and beckoned her to join him upstairs. The professor did not hesitate to do so, yet managed to throw a scathing glare in the direction of the Dursleys before she reached the first step. Perhaps deciding that the sooner Harry and Professor McGonagall had their talk, the sooner this strange woman would leave their house, Uncle Vernon did not reproach either wizard. When the two reached Harry's bedroom, he held the door open for McGonagall to enter. She did not speak for a moment or two and Harry could tell she was scanning the room to analyze the state of his living conditions.

"How are you, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall inquired at last. Harry just shrugged his shoulders. He was not in the mood to divulge anything more than absolutely necessary. Sensing Harry's reluctance, the Transfiguration professor continued. "Harry, I have come to remove you from this...place," she said with a wave of her hand and look of disgust on her face.

Harry suddenly felt a surge of anger and bitterness swell inside him. "Oh, are you sure that's okay?" Harry asked sarcastically. "Are you sure Dumbledore wouldn't rather I stayed here to rot for my _protection_?" Professor McGonagall put her face in her hands and sighed heavily. Clearly the conversation had already degenerated to a point she had hoped to avoid, but Harry did not care. He was angry. McGonagall was currently a convenient target. "Well?" Harry blurted impatiently. "I mean love and happiness aren't important right? So why don't I just stay?"

"Harry," McGonagall interrupted as Harry noticed the use of his given name, "I know you are angry and hurting. I can imagine if I had to live your life I would be bitter too. But surely you must understand that Professor Dumbledore was trying to do what was best for you?"

"DOES THIS LOOK LIKE IT'S THE BEST THING FOR ME?" Harry seethed. Inwardly he berated himself for losing control like Uncle Vernon had done. Harry threw his hands into the air with frustration. Shaking his head, Harry sank onto his bed. "I'm sorry, Professor. I should not have yelled like that."

"We all make mistakes, Harry. Even headmasters of wizarding schools," Professor McGonagall explained. "I just hope you can come to accept this and trust Professor Dumbledore once again."

"I understand what you are trying to tell me. But after having to suffer in this house and...and losing Sirius..." A lump rose in Harry's throat making it difficult to finish. "Truth be told, Professor, I don't know if I can believe in him anymore," Harry whimpered piteously. Harry realized how truly fascinating his shoelaces were. He could not bear to look McGonagall in the eyes. Unfortunately, the professor was not known for making things that easy. She placed a hand underneath his chin and forced him to meet her gaze.

"I hope that you will not doubt him forever, but that is not a sin. Just know that he believes in you," Professor McGonagall said soothingly. She paused allowing the young man to take in her words. "Now, I believe we should begin to pack your things." For the next twenty minutes the two packed in silence. McGonagall was extremely efficient at it. She would fold his clothes and even roll his socks with a simple flick of her wand before placing them neatly into Harry's trunk. Harry's strategy was a little more pell-mell. He could tell that Professor McGonagall disapproved of his cramming, but was grateful that she had restrained from commenting on it.

"Oh!" McGonagall cried suddenly. "I almost forgot." Harry peered at her questioningly. The professor reached inside her overcoat and pulled out a letter, but unbeknownst to either of them a second letter fell to the floor. "Your OWL results, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall continued. "I think you'll be pleased."

Harry took the letter from her hands. It bore the familiar Hogwarts crest and emerald print. Harry carefully opened the envelope and examined its contents. He was not surprised to find out that he had only received Acceptable on his Astronmy OWL, or his History of Magic exam garnered a dismal Poor grade. Both OWL's had suuffered due to circumstances beyond Harry's control. However, as he had suspected in June, he had indeed received an Outstanding grade for his Defense Against the Dark Arts tests. However, his jaw dropped as he read the rest of the scores. Harry earned Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration and Charms. What really surprised him was the fact that he had collected Outstandings in Care of Magical Creatures and... "Potions?" Harry gasped. McGonagall chuckled lightly and nodded.

"Apparently you score better without Professor Snape standing over your shoulder," Professor McGonagall mused.

"Or, vanishing my potions for me?" Harry added without thinking. He glanced quickly at his teacher waiting for a response, but none came. She looked utterly appalled, but apparently chose not to say anything at this point in time.

"We had better get going," McGonagall stated at last. Harry suddenly realized that he had not asked where he would actually be spending the rest of the summer.

"Um, Professor?" Harry prompted. "Where exactly are we going?"

"Oh, I am sorry, Potter. You will be spending the rest of your holidays at the Burrow," Professor McGonagall disclosed. "I daresay Mr. Weasley shall be happy with that arrangement. Harry was unsure as to how he felt. The idea of spending the next four weeks at the Burrow was appealing, yet he knew Ron would want to talk about Sirius. But Harry decided that being with his friends far outweighed any reluctance he would have regarding what they wanted to discuss. In addition, Harry knew that Ron would respect his need for privacy should that need arise.

His mind made up, Harry made to follow the Professor out of his room, but he heard a rustle of parchment under his feet. He looked down to see another letter there. It was discolored by the effects of time and bore handwriting that Harry did not recognize. Harry stooped to retrieve it and physically jumped as he read to whom it was addressed. The envelope simply read:

_**My dear, Petunia**_

Harry was shocked. Where had this letter come from? Then it dawned on him. "Professor McGonagall?" he queried tentatively. "Did you drop this?"

McGonagall's face fell slightly. "Yes," she replied.

"Why do you have it?" Harry asked, his curiosity perhaps getting the better of him.

"Because someone asked me to give that to your aunt a long time ago," Professor McGonagall explained. "But for some reason I could not convince myself to actually deliver it."

"Why not?" Harry asked again. He was completely confused. Why would McGonagall have been given a letter to his aunt that she would have carried around for years. A flash of insight flooded his brain. "It's from my mother."

"It is," McGonagall answered. "You see, Harry, I had come to see your mother as a kind of daughter to me. She had asked me to give this letter to Petunia in case anything should happen to her. However, when she died and you were brought here, I could not let go of the letter because then I would have had to admit to myself that she was really gone. For me hanging onto this letter was like keeping part of your mother alive."

"You need to let it go," Harry said sagely handing the letter back to McGonagall. "My mother must have wanted Aunt Petunia to have it for a reason. I also think that holding onto it is probably more of reminder that she's dead than any lingering hope she's alive even in spirit."

"You're right, Harry," she gulped. Harry could see McGonagall physically compose herself. "Shall we?" Harry followed his teacher out the door and down the stairs. The Dursleys seemed to be giving them a wide berth, as the house was quiet. Yet Harry knew McGonagall would not leave until she had spoken to one of his relatives. Being the responsible one she was, she would need to explain where Harry was going. Though Harry was certain they would hardly give it a second thought.

Professor McGonagall led Harry into the kitchen. At last they found Petunia sitting at the table tensely clutching a cup of tea. "Ah, there you are," McGonagall said trying her best to sound pleasant. "I just wanted to let you know that Harry shall be spending the rest of his holidays at a friend's home."

"Good," Petunia said bluntly. McGonagall must have been aware of the Dursley's attitude toward Harry, but this obvious display of indifference clearly had taken her off guard. She eyed Petunia for a moment. Petunia shifted uneasily in her chair. "Do I need to show you where the door is?" Harry's aunt voiced at last.

"Does the fact that this boy is your sister's son mean nothing to you?" McGonagall asked somewhat heatedly.

Petunia flew out of her seat as her teacup shattered on the floor. She was nose to nose with the professor either out of ignorance or hatred, for this was not a move any other mere mortal would have attempted with the formidable Minerva McGonagall. "My sister? My _sister_?" she shrieked. Petunia was in a rage unlike any Harry had ever seen from her. She had always been the calm one. It was not uncommon for Uncle Vernon to lose his cool, but his aunt had always been more sedate. Harry could only recall one other time he had seen her this angry. It too had involved his mother; when Hagrid had come to tell him he was a wizard.

"Your sister...," Professor McGonagall began to explain, but was interrupted.

"...was a FREAK!" Petunia yelled trembling with fury. "SHE DESERVED WHAT SHE GOT!" Petunia took a deep breath as if to continue her tirade, but-

SMACK

Aunt Petunia placed her hand over the rising red welt on her cheek. Professor McGonagall's own hand was still raised ready to strike again if need be. It was Harry's professor's turn to shake with anger. All Harry could will himself to do was look from one woman to the other with an expression like a deer in headlights. "Lily was one of the kindest, most loving individuals I have ever known," McGonagall began finally. "Despite whatever faults you conceived her to have, know this: she never stopped loving you. Even when you had cast her aside she loved you. When you quit acknowledging her existence, she loved you. When she and James were marked for death, she loved you." Professor McGonagall sighed heartily and momentarily stared at the floor. She reached into her coat pocket and produced Harry's mother's letter. "Here," she said extending the letter to Petunia. "It is time you had this." As soon as Petunia took it Professor McGonagall turned to Harry. "Come," she ordered. "We are not going to waste any more time here."


	2. The Risks We Take

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Thank you so much to my reviewers: Quill of Minerva, Lanzer, Nightwing 509, mugglemin, ancient-memories, and Lou. McGonagall! Hope you enjoy this next installment!

**Chapter Two: The Risks We Take**

Before Harry knew it he was standing outside the Burrow. He had been thinking so intently on all that had occurred at his aunt and uncle's house. McGonagall was peering at him quizzically. "Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" she asked. Harry could only nod in response. His thoughts were consuming him. The door of the Burrow flew open before either Harry or Professor McGonagall could knock.

"Harry!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley as she threw her arms around Harry's neck. "So good to see you, dear."

"Molly," interrupted McGonagall, "may we come in?" Harry was grateful for McGonagall's question as Mrs. Weasley's embrace was squeezing off the blood flow to his face.

"Oh, of course, of course," blushed Mrs. Weasley. She yielded the entryway to the new arrivals. Harry stepped over the threshold and for the first time that summer he felt a wave of comfort enter his soul. Though he had only visited the Burrow a handful of times before, but it was more of a home than Privet Drive had ever been.

As he entered the house Harry saw Ron and Ginny sitting at the table. They must have been waiting for him to arrive. They both jumped to their feet straight away. "Hey, mate," Ron said excitedly as Ginny just smiled softly. "Come on, let's take you stuff upstairs. That is..." Ron hesitated glancing from Professor McGonagall to his mother, "if that's okay."

"By all means, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall chuckled. The three Gryffindors turned to hurry upstairs to Ron's room. Ginny had taken Hedwig from Harry as Ron grabbed the opposite side of Harry's trunk. By the time they finally reached the landing outside Ron's bedroom door all three were huffing and puffing from the effort.

Harry pushed his way through the door and smiled at the familiar sight of Ron's brilliantly orange room. Ron was an avid Chudley Cannons fan and it was certainly evident from the posters adorning the walls right down to the slightly worn bedspread. Harry and Ron set down his trunk and Harry sank upon it. Ron and Ginny had likewise seated themselves, but onto Ron's bed. No one spoke for a minute or two. Even though they were all happy to see one another, no words seemed legitimate enough to speak. Harry could tell that Ron was becoming uncomfortable by the silence as he was shifting around nervously.

"So," Harry said trying to stimulate a conversation, "how did you do on your OWL's?"

"You won't believe it!" Ron perked up. "I got an outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and get this, _Potions._"

"Yeah, me too," Harry laughed. "I can just imagine Snape's reaction when we're in his class this year."

"If I didn't want to be an Auror I probably wouldn't continue on in Potions," explained Ron forlornly. A knock at the door alerted them to the arrival of someone on the landing. Professor McGonagall poked in her head.

"Might I come in?" she asked.

Ron shot to his feet as though he had been blasted from a cannon. "Of course, Professor," he stammered.

Professor McGonagall entered and Harry noticed her scanning the room as she had done in his own that morning. Ron's ears were turning a deep shade of scarlet. "You have good taste, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall stated when her analysis was complete. Ron turned even more red and narrowed his eyes. Clearly he was unsure whether this was a compliment or not. "I like the Cannons as well," the professor said bemused. "Let's just hope they are not as dismal as last year...embarrassing." This lightened Ron quite a bit.

"Harry," McGonagall said turning to him, "I need to head back to the school, but I just wanted to let you know that you may contact Professor Dumbledore or myself should you need anything." Harry nodded. McGonagall did the same in response and she strode from the room in a swirl of tartan.

The next few days were the happiest Harry had had in a long time. He could get up whenever he wanted, and thanks to Mrs. Weasley's insistence that he "fatten up", he enjoyed many of his favorite foods. One of the best times he had was being able to get out his Firebolt and play quidditch with his friends. He had missed it immensely since he had been banned playing by Umbridge the previous year. Though he worried whether his ban would be uplifted now that she was gone. Ginny had apparently sensed his mood on the subject. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has already taken care of that. You'll be playing again this year. If not, Professor McGonagall will kill him." Harry laughed. Leave it to the Weasleys to put a smile on his face.

The week of his birthday had brought the arrival of Hermione, his other best friend from Hogwarts. Ron had, much to Harry's relief, abstained from mentioning Sirius. Hermione was a different matter. She was insistent that Harry talk about it. "I know you're hurting Harry," she said one day. "You put on a brave face, but I can see it in your eyes."

"Oh, leave him alone, Hermione," scolded Ron.

"I will not!" she said indignantly. "Friends don't ignore each other because something bad has happened. That's when we should stand together stronger!"

"I am standing up for Harry!" Ron yelled angrily. He suddenly grabbed Hermione by the arm and steered her from the room. Harry was surprised. He had never seen Ron so physically intense with her. It was not a violent intensity, just a determined one. They had continued their fight in the hallway. Though muffled, Harry could clearly hear their interlude.

"Hermione," Ron was saying, "I know you are doing what you think is right by Harry, but for as long as we have known him, what has he _always_ done when you push him emotionally?"

"He bottles up even more," Hermione realized.

"Exactly," assured Ron. "Be there for him, but let him bring it up to you." In that moment Harry realized how much his friends meant to him. They knew and understood him. They cared for his heart and he knew that he would always be able to rely on them.

* * *

Harry's birthday came and went. It felt strange to be sixteen. Where had the time gone? August saw the arrival of the trio's Hogwarts letters. Harry felt a pang of nervousness for the upcoming year, but he was excited as well. He prayed that this year would be better than the last, though inside he doubted it. How could it now that the second war had begun.

The week before the start of term Ron, Harry, and Hermione made a their annual trek to Diagon Alley. At the very least Harry was able to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies, his favorite shop, and meet some of his fellow Gryffindors there. The three students were currently standing outside of Flourish and Blotts. All three were scanning their book lists for the new term. Harry had only a handful of new ones to purchase. One for each of his NEWT classes: Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The sound of a malevolent voice caught his attention, and Harry scanned the crowd to locate its owner.

"Mother says he should be out in no time," the voice drawled. "Father still has plenty of sway. Funny what gold can do for you."

"What are you looking at?" Harry heard Ron whisper in his ear. Harry nodded his head abruptly in the direction of the voice. It was Draco Malfoy, Harry's enemy since the day they had met. Hermione had grabbed Harry's arm as if she were afraid that he would swoop down upon Malfoy like a starving vulture. Malfoy was surrounded by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. It did not take a great deal of imagination to realize what they were talking about. Harry had been partly responsible for the apprehension of all three of their fathers a couple of months ago.

"Oh, look who it is," Malfoy said vindictively having spotted the trio at last. "Potty, Weasel, and the Mudblood." Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly at his sides.

"What's the matter Malfoy?" fumed Harry. "Cross because the world knows what a lowlife your father is?" Malfoy's cheeks flushed deeply and Harry took a twisted sense of pleasure in knowing that he had touched a nerve. Harry was sick of being at the mercy of Malfoy's forked tongue.

"I told you last June, Potter, that you will pay for sending my father to Azkaban," Malfoy hissed. Harry was reaching cautiously inside his robes for his wand. "I'm going to make you pay."

"WELL DO IT THEN!" Harry shouted. The crowd perusing Diagon Alley all stopped to stare, but Harry did not notice or quiet himself. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Malfoy must of realized that he had been beaten. It was inconceivable to attempt anything here in Diagon Alley. There were simply too many witnesses. He shot Harry one last malignant look and was gone, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering along in his wake.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded. "You should not provoke him!"

"May I remind you that _he_ started it," Harry said bitterly rounding on her. Harry immediately felt guilty for being so harsh with her. Her face fell as she looked at the ground. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Seeing Malfoy made me remember what Kreacher did to betray us. Maybe we would not have gone to the Department of Mysteries and Sirius would..." He could not finish. Hermione had looked up at him and tears were brimming her eyes.

A sudden sense of anxiety began to flood Harry's insides. He felt himself begin to panic. He could not stand it. He turned and fled from his two friends. Where he was going he did not know. He just had to run, run from the memory of his godfather falling through the veil. He did not know how far he had gone, but eventually weariness overtook him. He stumbled to a nearby wall. Harry looked around him and realized he was on the far side of Diagon Alley from where he had been. The far end of the alley held only a few shops and only a scant number of witches or wizards ever came down this far. Harry sank to the ground with his back to the wall. He clutched his knees to his chest. He was still panting heavily from his retreat. _You can't outrun the truth, Harry, _he thought to himself. At that, any resolve Harry had left melted away. He dropped his face to his knees and wept.

* * *

The train ride back to Hogwarts on September first was a quiet one. As the Hogwarts Express ambled along Harry stared out the window. He was thinking of the incident in Diagon Alley earlier that week. It was Mr. Weasley who discovered him. Ron and Hermione had apparently informed Ron's parents of what had transpired outside of Flourish and Blotts. Harry had composed himself by the time Mr. Weasley had arrived, but he was exhausted and emotionally drained. He had become numb to the goings on around him. Mr. Weasley had escorted him back to the familiar end of the alley where after the obligatory questions to whether he was alright and Mrs. Weasley's bone-crushing hug, everyone had thankfully left him alone. Though Harry would not soon forget the deeply worried looks on Ron and Hermione's faces.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Later he could not remember arriving at Hogsmeade station or even the welcoming fest that night. He just wanted to get back to his familiar four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. Any greetings that night had been answered with nods or waves. When the feast had finally concluded Harry silently joined the throng as the different houses made their way in various directions to their own common rooms. It was lucky that Ron and Hermione and been with him as he reached the portrait hole. He simply stood in a daze looking at his feet. Harry was completely unaware of his own odd behavior. Only after Hermione uttered the new password ("Narro Veritas!"), did he continue on. Without so much as a good night to his friends, Harry ascended the stairs to his dormitory.

Harry did not bother to change into his pajamas or remove his glasses, but simply fell, face forward, onto his pillow. Only the sound of parchment aroused him and prevented him from drifting immediately off to sleep. Harry rolled over to find three letters lying on his bed. Hedwig, who hooted softly, was perched upon the headboard. "What?" Harry chastised. "You couldn't wait until tomorrow to deliver these?" Hedwig ruffled her feathers indignantly and flew off for the Owlery.

Harry turned over the first letter and by the soft glow of the fire rising the stairs from the common room, Harry surprisedly recognized his Aunt Petunia's handwriting. Harry could not imagine what his aunt would possibly be writing to him about. Curiosity took hold as Harry eased open the envelope.

_Dear Harry,_

_I know that my writing to you must come as a great shock. I find myself shocked in doing so. I should have done this sooner, but I knew that I have been anything but kind and loving with you since your parents passed away. The truth is Harry, that I did not hate your mother. I loved her dearly, but for some reason that I still have not yet ascertained, I had come to think that she had abandoned me all those years ago. _

_When Lily received her Hogwarts letter when we were children she was so excited. I guess you could say I was jealous. She garnered all the attention from our parents after that. I wanted to feel special too. So, when she left to go to school I thought she had deserted me to be without her. I was narrow-minded and foolish. So, each passing day a resentment in my heart grew. It was like an evil monster eating away at the image of the Lily I remembered, and in its place left the image I had formulated in my mind of the sister who did not love me or was embarrassed by my ordinariness._

_The day you left in July I was angry. Your professor, Professor McGonagall I think it was, made me remember the day I thought Lily had abandoned me. But I came to an epiphany soon afterward. The letter she gave me, I don't know if you knew or not, but it was from your mother. I did not read it for several days. Indeed I tried many times to tear it up or burn it in the fireplace. But each time I could not get myself to do so. Finally I read it. I now understand. Your mum did not leave me, and even now that she is dead she has not yet left me. Her letter did that for me. I hope you understand that too. In all the terrible ways I have betrayed you as your aunt, please let me give you this: I know your mum loved you more than life itself and she still lives in you. That is why I could not bear to look you in the eyes for all those years. When I saw your eyes I saw Lily staring back out at me. _

_I know this will not greatly change things. I know for certain that your uncle Vernon shall never be persuaded, but my soul is as free as it has been for thirty years. Understanding what I do now, I have failed you in almost every regard as I betrayed the memory of you mother and father. So, I would like to give you these other two letters as a token, as late as it may be, to let you know that you were always loved. Even if I never realized it until now. The first is Lily's own Hogwarts letter. I found it after she died. I know that you have no material things from her and you should have it. The second is your mother's letter to me that I was given that day in July. Keep them, treasure them._

_Harry, I hope I can do right by you from now on. Know though that it will be difficult. I have been living a lie for so long that the lines between that lie and the truth are still blurred. Good luck to you at school, enjoy your life as much as you can while you are young. _

_Petunia._

Harry reached up to wipe his face. His cheeks were wet and he had been unaware that Petunia's letter had invoked his eyes to tears. It all made sense now. Why Aunt Petunia had never looked at him, and why the few occasions she had were filled with hatred. Harry swallowed hard to try to force the lump in his throat back down below his Adam's apple. He turned the other two letters over in his hand. He caressed them softly. What a wonderful gift they were. Not only because they had been given to him in that way, but also because they were blessed physical reminders of his mother. Harry opened the letter that had been addressed to his aunt and read. Like on the envelope, the letter began:

_My dear, Petunia,_

_It is so strange how life works sometimes. I thought that once I graduated from school life would be as wonderful as it could ever be. But we are facing a severe threat, Petunia. The whole world, not just the magical one. I fear that the world as we know it will no longer be the same. Who will live to see the coming of a new dawn? The truth is no one can say for certain. _

_Yet, one thing is certain. We only regret the risks we didn't take. I should have been more forthcoming with you long ago, my dear sister. I think you know that if you have this letter it is too late and I am gone. I have never pretended to understand where your intolerance of me has come from, but despite all this, I hope you know that I have always loved you. If you felt that I have deserted you I am sorry. I went to better myself. I may be magical, but that never made me better than you! You are better than me in so many ways. I know few people as determined as you are, it is a strength you have always possessed. Though I was older, I always looked up to you for it. _

_Now that I am gone can you see it in your heart to love me again? I am afraid that should you be reading this letter I never had the chance to explain all of this to you in person, or to know that you have forgiven me for what ever I did to cause you despair. Petunia, you mean the world to me. You are as important to me as James or my little Harry! I love you, and know that when I am gone I will still love you, no matter where that may be._

_Like I said before, it is strange the way that life works sometimes. You and I both have sons in an era of uncertainty. Should my Harry survive what is in store, I hope you will tell him everyday how much he was loved. He is my shining star, James my rock, and what of you Petunia? You Petunia, are the smile in my heart. Remember that Petunia. Remember I love you now, and always._

_Your sister,_

_Lily _

Torrents of fresh tears were streaming out of Harry's eyes now. He had been holding the letter out away from him so that his tears would not smear its precious contents. Harry was completely fatigued physically and emotionally. He removed his glasses and deposited them on the bedside table. He carefully placed Petunia's letter underneath his pillow and sank down upon it restfully. The other two letters Harry clutched to his chest over his heart. As his eyes blinked heavily and his body succumbed to dreams Harry thought of how the first time in his life he was glad Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister.


	3. The Snake and the Phoenix

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Thank you so much to my reviewers: Quill of Minerva, Liat1989, Nightwing 509, mugglemin, ancient-memories, and Lou. McGonagall! You guys are the reason I keep writing! Also I apologize for the wait between chapters. I actually wrote from the middle to the end first. I guess that is how inspiration works sometimes. Eventually the updates will come much quicker. Also, I hope you will forgive the slow pace of the opening chapters, there is a lot to set up! But the story will become more intense in future installments. Thanks again!

**Chapter Three: The Snake and the Phoenix**

The next morning would bring the start of classes. At breakfast Professor McGonagall walked up and down the long house table distributing class schedules. Harry scanned quickly over his list to determine what was in store for him that day. It was a good day in which to start the term. Harry had three classes on Mondays. Herbology and Charms in the morning and Transfiguration after lunch. However, as Harry continued to peruse his schedule he found an entry that he did not expect.

"What's the matter Harry?" Hermione asked after taking note of the look on his face.

"I have a new class this term," Harry gulped.

"Wha' are u talkig abou'?" Ron forced out through a mouthful of bacon and eggs. "Sith yers don hab new classes." Hermione shot Ron a scathing glare as if to tell him how rude he was, but Ron had experienced this look enough times that he no longer took notice of it.

"Apparently, I do," Harry replied.

"What is it?" Ron asked having finally swallowed.

"Occlumency."

"_Occlumency?_" Ron and Hermione gasped together. Harry nodded. "You have to have two classes with that git, Snape?" Ron continued alone. "That's just wrong."

"Snape's not teaching it," Harry informed them.

"Who is?" Hermione inquired looking concerned.

"Dumbledore."

Ron and Hermione had taken this bit of news really well. Apparently they felt that a class with Dumbledore was something to look forward to, however, Harry was deeply dreading it. He still felt bitter toward the man. How is it that one year Dumbledore would not so much as look at him and the next he would be teaching Harry privately? More than this, Harry was resentful because Dumbledore had lied to him. Though the professor had never spoken outright untruths, in Harry's mind, lies by omission were lies nonetheless. Dumbledore had been strong in his conviction that he was trying to keep Harry happy as long as possible, but could he not understand that now that Harry knew the truth he was all that more miserable? Yet, despite all the anger that dwelled within Harry's heart, he did not hate Professor Dumbledore. He knew that he never could.

Hatred was a lot more difficult to keep at bay with others inside the castle, however. It would be the first NEWT Potions class that would confirm this. Harry could already feel the loathing building in his chest as he, Ron, and Hermione descended the steps to Snape's dungeons. As Snape only took on those students who had received Outstanding grades on the Ordinary Wizarding Level, so few was the number of accepted students that all houses would be represented in this single class. When the door to the dungeon opened, the students reluctantly began to file inside. Harry suspected that many, like he and Ron, were only continuing in the subject because their future ambitions required them to do so. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their usual seat at the back of the room. They had done this for the past five years and Harry saw no reason to stop now if he could help it.

Snape was standing behind a lectern surveying the class with what could be described as nothing short of disgust. His eyes, as always, lingered upon Harry for an extra few seconds before continuing their scrutiny. Snape's demeanor made it unnecessary for him to ever try and quiet a class, that was a given.

"Some of you," Professor Snape sneered, "have decided to continue on in the refined art that is potion-making because you have a true aptitude for it." He paused to look around the room and his eyes delayed momentarily on Draco Malfoy. "And some of you," Snape recommenced with his gaze piercing Harry, "are here by mere chance, luck, or formalities."

Harry could feel his face grow hot with rage. Snape had for five years used his power as a professor to torment or harass him. Often times Harry knew it was in an effort to provoke a reaction from him. It is what he had done to Sirius all those months ago at Grimmauld Place. Maybe Sirius would not have felt so pressured to go to the Ministry of Magic. Harry knew he would never forgive Snape for that. How Harry kept himself in check he did not know. Whether it was Hermione's grasping his arm under the table as if to restrain him, or his mind numbing with anger, Harry remained in control. Deep inside Harry knew that Sirius would have gone to Harry with or without Snape's belittlement. Harry was his godson, Sirius would die for him...and he had.

Snape began to sweep around the classroom imperiously. "Today we shall begin work on a very complex potion. No doubt some of you will fail at brewing it extravagantly," Snape snarled once again glaring at Harry.

_Just follow the directions_, Harry thought._ Ignore him. Ignore him. You can do it._ With a flick of his wand Snape had revealed instructions on the blackboard for a very complex looking potion indeed. As Harry scanned the ingredients he would need, something stirred in his memory. Two of the listed ingredients were asphodel and wormwood. Harry's brain shot back to his first ever Potions class.

_Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?_

"Does anyone know what this potion is?" Professor Snape asked with a suspiciously malignant grin on his face. As always, Hermione's hand shot into the air, though no one else's did. Harry was not at all surprised when... "Potter! Can you tell me what would be created by following these instructions?" Ron was looking at Harry nervously, but inwardly Harry could hardly contain his glee. Here was Snape trying once again to entrap and make a fool of him. Harry was thankful he had a good memory.

"The Draught of Living Death, Sir," Harry explained trying not to smile. "It is a sleeping potion so powerful that one who has consumed it appears to be dead." Snape's face slipped from smug satisfaction to bewilderment to pallid and angry. "Professor, you told us about it on our first potions class, remember?" Harry added sweetly. Ron was looking intently at the ceiling. Harry could tell he was doing his best not to break down laughing.

Snape darted back to the front of the classroom with a whirl of his cloak. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted. "We will be testing your potions at the end of class. If concocted correctly you will fall into a deep, yet peaceful sleep. If not, well, let's just say there could be any number of "

Harry set about working on the potion. Snape had not lied in the slightest. It was very difficult, but in his thirst to outdo Snape once more Harry was more focused on his cauldron than he had ever been. Harry was pleasantly surprised that upon completion his potion was a thick, deep purple, exactly as the instructions stated. He corked a sample and awaited the rest of the class to finish. To his left, Hermione was just finishing up and her potion was the same shade of purple. To his right, Ron was looking worried. His potion, though not sparking and spitting like Malfoy's, was not quite the right color. Though he had managed a dark lavender.

With ten minutes to go, Snape announced to the class that they should all cork a sample, "No matter how it looks." He added sinisterly. Professor Snape pulled a vial from the pocket of his robes. "This is the antidote to the draught you should have prepared," Snape explained. "If you were successful, only one drop will revive you. If not you may find yourself at the mercy of Madame Pomfrey." At this Snape peered around at the multitude of nervous faces. "Bones!" Snape yelled as Susan Bones, the Hufflepuff jumped in her seat. Upon his command Susan drank her potion and immediately sank her head to the table. She had fallen asleep. So much was the evident strength of her brew that she did indeed appear dead. The class applauded. Snape looked disappointed. He tilted back Susan's head, and using an eye-dropper, placed the antidote in her mouth.

In turn, students drank their potions having become more confident by Susan's success. Of course not all students were quite as lucky. Though the consequences were not as dire as Snape had made them out to be. Ernie MacMillan, also a Hufflepuff, fell asleep but when he snored he made meowing noises. This caused a great amount of laughter which only further infuriated Snape.

"Malfoy!" Snape snapped, perhaps more harshly than he normally would have done with his favorite student. Malfoy looked positively terrified. His potion was no longer sparking, but there was nothing thick or purple about it. Rather it seemed green and runny. Malfoy hesitantly swallowed. At first nothing happened. Harry assumed that Malfoy had made a complete dud. But soon Malfoy reached up to his mouth to sputter and gag. Harry could see painful red boils begin to sprout from the backs of his hands. The boils quickly spread, and soon every visible inch of Malfoy was covered in blisters.

"Someone get him to the hospital wing," Snape spat with a mix of anger and embarrassment. Milicent Bulstrode quickly raced to Malfoy and ushered him from the dungeon.

"No wonder she volunteered so quickly," Ron whispered in Harry's ear nudging his ribs. "Look at her cauldron." Harry barely suppressed a grin when he saw that Milicent's cauldron also contained a runny, green liquid.

"Well, Potter," Snape sneered curling his lip, "ready to tempt your fate?"

"Of course," Harry replied calmly. For once Harry had complete confidence in his potion-making abilities. Hermione's had turned out perfectly and Harry's so closely resembled hers the difference was indistinguishable. Harry swallowed his potion and blackness immediately overtook him. The next thing he knew he was staring into the livid face of Severus Snape. Harry quickly sat up.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," jeered Snape.

"What!" Ron cried indignantly. "What on earth for?"

"Mr. Potter here," he said almost impatiently, "obviously cheated and corked a sample from Miss Granger's cauldron."

"That's a lie!" Harry yelled. "I have a whole cauldron full, that _I_ brewed in _my_ cauldron!"

"I see nothing in your cauldron, Potter," simpered Snape. Harry wheeled around and noticed that his cauldron was quite empty. Immediately Harry realized what Snape must have done. Harry began to shake with white-hot fury. All the self-control Harry had exercised at the start of the lesson was now completely non-existent. Harry glanced around at all the sympathetic faces before finally exploding.

"YOU VANISHED MY POTION!" Harry fumed. "JUST WHAT I'D EXPECT FROM THE BLOODY DEATH EATER THAT YOU ARE!

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously as the class gasped in collective shock. Professor Snape strode purposefully across the room. Harry did not even raise his hands to protect himself as a rough hand seized him by the throat. Snape dragged Harry backwards toward the fireplace. Harry could hear members of the class shouting through his gasps for air. Beside him, Snape was rummaging for something on top of the mantle. An eruption of emerald flames behind him told Harry that Snape had just initiated the Floo network. Snape dragged Harry inside, still clutching his throat. "McGONAGALL'S OFFICE!" he yelled. With a surge of green flame they had left the dungeons behind.

"Severus!" Harry heard Professor McGonagall exclaim. "Severus what are you doing? Release him at once!" But Snape did not let go, on the contrary, his grip tightened mercilessly completely shutting off Harry's airway.

"YOUR STUDENTS ARE OUT OF CONTROL MINERVA!" Snape spat angrily. "HE CALLED ME A DEATH EATER IN FRONT OF THE CLASS!" Harry began to thrash about violently. His sight was darkening due to lack of oxygen. Would McGonagall not help him? Harry felt two hands encircling him to support his weight.

"Severus, please," her voice pleaded. "He can't breathe." At that Harry could feel the clamp on his throat lessen and he fell to the floor in McGonagall's arms as Snape finally released him. Harry sputtered and gasped for air. He looked up in time to see Snape a glow in green flames inside McGonagall's fireplace.

"He _will not_ return to my class ever again," seethed Snape. "Mark my words." Then he was gone.

Harry could hardly believe what had just occurred. He was lying on the floor. Professor McGonagall was peering at him with a look of the utmost distress. Though he was no longer being choked, Harry still felt as though he could not take in enough air. Every breath was long and forced. It rattled around in his chest. Harry began to panic, his eyes pleading with McGonagall to help him. He could see her lips moving, but the buzzing that had developed in his ears was drowning out her words. A sensation was beginning to overwhelm him, and as though he had once again ingested the Draught of Living Death, blackness overtook him and he knew no more.

* * *

"Harry?"

Who was speaking to him? Couldn't they see he was sleeping?

"Harry?" the voice said again. A fire suddenly lit in his brain and his eyes flew open. There was Albus Dumbledore, mere inches from his nose. His image was intensely blurry and Harry realized he was not wearing his glasses.

"My glasses," Harry croaked in a soft whisper. His voice was raspy and dry. Dumbledore reached onto Harry's bedside table retrieving the spectacles.

"Here you are," he said calmly, the twinkle absent from his eyes. As Harry began to cough, Dumbledore poured a glass of water from Harry's jug. "Drink this," he ordered. The water had a wonderfully soothing effect. Neither spoke for some time, but Harry knew why the older man was there. "Harry," Professor Dumbledore began, "did you really call Professor Snape a Death Eater in front of the class?"

"Yes," Harry said defiantly. He did not care what Dumbledore thought. Snape deserved it.

"Harry, Severus Snape is _not_ a Death Eater," Dumbledore replied quietly. "Angry and bitter? Yes, but most certainly not a Death Eater."

"And just how do you know?" wheezed Harry accusingly. For the first time since Harry was introduced to the Headmaster he was fixed with a warning glare.

"I trust him. That is how I know," Dumbledore declared with an air of finality.

"You trust Snape, but you don't trust me," Harry accused. Dumbledore leaned away from Harry. He had clearly been stunned by Harry's allegation. "Why?"

"I do trust you, Harry," said Dumbledore hurtfully.

"You say you do, but your actions tell me differently!" Harry yelled as loud as his damaged voice would allow. "You say you trust me, but you wouldn't tell me about the prophecy until it was too late! You say you trust me, but you let Snape carry on with whatever torment he can dream up! You say you trust me, but you know what? I-don't-trust-you!" Harry's body was heaving with emotion. How could Dumbledore keep that infuriatingly calm face?

Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and began to rub the bridge if his crooked nose. "Harry, you have every right to be angry with me, even to hate me. We all walk a fine line. Sometimes that line is so blurred we do not know when we have crossed it." Dumbledore reached out his hand and enveloped Harry's in it. "I do not have all the answers, but let me assure you, Professor Snape is trustworthy." Harry pulled his hand sharply from Dumbledore's. The professor looked deeply affronted, but continued on as though he had not noticed. "Also, Professor Snape will not go without warning for harming a student, make no mistake. I know you understand his value to the Order, but I will never tolerate the abuse of my students. Value or no, any future misdeed will warrant his dismissal." Dumbledore rose from Harry's bed and turned to leave. "I will check on you later," he stated, "and I know your faith in me now is very little, but I promise you, he will not harm you again. I promise."

* * *

Harry was released from the hospital wing the next morning. The story of what had occurred down in the dungeons the previous day had already spread through the school like rampant wildfire. Whispers followed Harry everywhere.

"Did he really call Snape a Death Eater?"

"Is Snape a Death Eater?"

"I heard Potter was going to be expelled."

"I guess Snape went ballistic."

Harry ignored the running commentary the best he could, but it was no easy task. Though Harry started to have the impression that he simply voiced what other students had always wanted to. How Dumbledore or McGonagall persuaded Snape to allow Harry to return to potions was a mystery. It may simply have been an ultimatum, but one thing Harry knew for sure was Snape never so much as looked at him during subsequent lessons. This was an amazing improvement in Harry's estimation. It was much better to ignore and be ignored than to have to worry about any eruptions.

On Thursday evening of that first week of term Harry found himself standing outside a familiar gargoyle with dread. Harry had avoided Professor Dumbledore has best he could since that day in the hospital wing, but now that his first Occlumency lesson was upon him, Harry felt a strong urge to run in the opposite direction. As if reading his thoughts, the stone gargoyle jumped aside on its own accord. He couldn't get away now, Dumbledore must have known he was waiting outside. Harry climbed the revolving staircase behind the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office door. Before he could knock, Harry heard a low, strong voice tell him to enter.

Harry pushed open the door and at first Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix sat upon his perch. He trilled happily at Harry which made a warm, comforting sensation flow throughout the young wizard.

"Hello, Fawkes," Harry greeted stroking the bird's plumage. Fawkes closed his eyes dreamily.

"You are one of the few people Fawkes will allow to touch him." Harry whirled about to see Professor Dumbledore exiting a sitting room that was off of the office. "Phoenixes are very intuitive creatures, you know. They only allow those with pure hearts and noble intentions to keep their company. Fawkes must trust you."

Trust.

There was that word again. Harry couldn't help but feel that trust was something far too abstract for him to understand right now. He simply nodded at the professor and took a seat opposite of the Headmaster's desk.

"Well Harry, I suspect you know why you are here," Dumbledore said.

"I'm here to learn Occlumency," Harry replied with a slightly impatient tone. If Dumbledore noticed this, he overlooked it.

"Yes," Dumbledore responded, "but you are here for more than that." The old man smiled slightly at Harry's expression. "It is true that you are here to learn to close your mind from intrusion, but I am also hoping that we may start to prepare you for your most important task in the wizarding world."

"That's right," Harry said sarcastically, "let's make sure the weapon is a well-oiled machine." Harry was tired of feeling like no one really cared for him. Why was he seen as a tool instead of a person.

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore whispered, "I do not see you as only a weapon, as a matter of fact I do not see you as a weapon at all." Harry snorted. "Harry, I said I wanted to prepare you for what lies in store for you in the wizarding world, not life." Harry looked up confused. Sensing his confusion, Dumbledore proceeded, "Harry they are not one in the same. There is so much more to life than the tasks laid out before us. We have a much bigger responsibility than that."

"What is it?" Harry implored, his anger ebbing away.

"People," the Headmaster replied. "It is the people around us for whom we should live our lives; our friendships, our families, even our enemies. Harry, I could never really prepare you for life. Life is a choice. I told you once that it is our choices that define who we truly are. So how do we decide how to live it? It is in people that we must rest our faith. Without the relationships we forge our existence would be unbearable. You alone, Harry, can determine who you allow to touch you in your life. It is your choice to make."

Harry sat silently for a moment. He knew Dumbledore was right in what he said. Harry had already known an existence without love and human touch. It was not one he wanted to relive. His time at Privet Drive had not been spent as the Harry he knew at Hogwarts, he had been merely an empty shell. This knowledge did not make how he should live any easier, however. Though alone and forsaken at Privet Drive, at least he had not known the pain of losing the relationships on which he had come to rely. Loneliness may not be truly living, but losing those whom you love was like a part of you dying as well.

"I know that you have suffered loss all your life, my dear boy," Dumbledore spoke with such compassion that Harry could feel a tightening in his chest. "Just remember the emptiness we feel after losing our loved ones can be filled with the memories we choose to hold on to." Harry looked up at the man before him an smiled weakly to indicate that he understood. Dumbledore smiled gently in return. Harry had achieved an understanding with his esteemed professor. Though he did not feel as close to Dumbledore as he once had, Harry would forgive him. That was the choice he chose to make. It was the choice he knew he had to make.


	4. Sharing Hopes and Dreams

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Thank you so much to my reviewers: Quill of Minerva, Lady Urquentha, mugglemin, and Lou. McGonagall! For those of you who are anxiously awaiting the ADMM goodness, it is coming up next chapter! Thanks for being so patient. As always, thank you so much!

**Chapter Four: Sharing Hopes and Dreams**

The following weeks were busy ones for Harry. It was ironic that Occlumency lessons with Professor Dumbledore had proven to be more difficult yet easier at the same time than they had been with Snape. Harry came to realize that Snape had not really tried to teach Harry anything on the matter. His orders to close his mind were pointless since he had never taught Harry exactly how to do that. Dumbledore was different. Harry could see what an extremely talented teacher he was. Sometimes, while lying in bed at night, Harry would wonder what it would have been like to sit in one of Professor Dumbledore's classes when he had been Transfiguration teacher.

The dawn of October brought a new kind of fervor to the castle. The talk had turned to quidditch and Harry began to feel increasingly nervous. Since Angelina Johnson had graduated Katie Bell would now be Gryffindor's new team captain. Harry had spoken to Katie a handful of times since the term began, but never had they mentioned quidditch. A strong sense of worry settled in the pit of Harry's stomach. Maybe Dumbledore had not been able to overturn Harry's ban. Harry made up his mind to speak to Professor McGonagall about it following his next Transfiguration lesson.

That day approached quickly and Harry felt a little shame at being so nervous. He was too afraid of what he might here. However, Ginny's words a few months ago spurred him on and gave him courage. _McGonagall will kill Dumbledore if I'm not allowed to play, _Harry thought as the rest of the class filed out of the room. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione one last time before approaching McGonagall's desk. They both offered reassuring looks.

"Um, Professor?" Harry asked weakly.

"Oh, Potter," she answered in greeting. "I was hoping to speak with you. I'm glad you chose to stay behind a few minutes."

"You are? I mean, you did?" Harry blushed. McGonagall just smiled.

"Perhaps you should tell me what is bothering you," the professor prodded.

"Well, Gryffindor's first quidditch match is next month and Katie..."

"It appears," Professor McGonagall interrupted, "our conversation is one in the same." Harry began to feel the worry in his stomach to change to that of hope.

"It's just that I know Katie is captain and she hasn't spoken to me yet, and I was starting to think I was still banned from playing," disclosed Harry.

"Katie is not the team captain," replied McGonagall.

"What?" Harry asked. "Who is then?"

"You are."

"Me?" Harry was thoroughly flabbergasted. One moment he thought his quidditch days were over the next he was a team captain. "Why is Katie not the captain? She's been on the team longer than me."

"Oh, I offered the captaincy to her of course," McGonagall explained, "but she declined. Katie felt she wanted to devote her extra time to her studies seeing as this is her final year. A wise move I must say. So, Potter, you are the next logical choice."

"I'm honored Professor, but..." Professor McGonagall's face fell as Harry spoke, "but I have a lot on my plate too. What with extra Occlumency lessons and the threat of Voldemort, I'm not sure I can be an entirely effective captain."

"I am happy that you have your priorities in order, Potter, but it seems that I am running out of options!" McGonagall responded pursing her lips. It is funny how one's brain will work sometimes. A flicker of memory stirred in the recesses of Harry's brain. The Mirror of Erised flashed as if before his eyes. Harry smiled. Here was the answer.

"Professor," Harry began, "might I make a suggestion?"

"Of course," McGonagall said looking extremely interested.

"What about a co-captaincy?" Harry offered.

"Co-captaincy? Who?" McGonagall asked.

"Me and Ron. It's perfect. I have the experience and Ron is the best strategist I've ever seen. You should see the way he plays chess," Harry explained. Professor McGonagall pondered this idea for awhile.

"Yes, I believe that is acceptable," she stated at last. "And seeing as it was your idea, I will let you inform Mr. Weasley." Harry smiled broadly and set off for the door at a run before McGonagall's voice caused him to hesitate. "Potter!" she called. "Do try an win again this year, won't you? I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my office."

Harry could hardly contain himself as he ran through he corridors looking for Ron and Hermione. He was playing quidditch again! What was more was he was happy he could help make Ron's dream come true. He could help get the captaincy, but Ron would have to become Head Boy on his own. Lost in thought, Harry turned the corner that would lead to the stairs down to the Great Hall. Harry was taken completely by surprise when he felt something catch him around the ankles. He skid six or seven feet on his chest before coming to a halt. Harry's glasses had flown off, but the malicious laughter behind him made it unnecessary to realize who had tripped him.

Harry rolled over onto his back, but before he could stand a large foot stepped onto his chest pinning him to the floor. It was Goyle. Through blurred vision, Harry could see Malfoy striding toward him with Crabbe not far behind.

"We're not on a crowded street to save you now, Potter," Malfoy snarled. "I think I am going to really enjoy this." Harry tried to reach his wand in his robes, but Goyle's foot on his chest was blocking every attempt to do so. Harry had to admit to himself that he never thought Malfoy would get the better of him, but at this moment Harry was vulnerable.

"Petrificus Totalus!" a voice rang out from along the corridor. Though Harry could not see well, he felt Goyle snap together and fall stiff as a board to the ground. Someone was coming to Harry's aid. _Whoever it is they have impeccable timing_, Harry thought.

"Impedimenta!" The voice shouted again. Harry scrambled around on the ground to find his glasses. He stumbled across them next to Goyle's prone body. Returning them to his face Harry turned around to see Neville, of all people, advancing upon the scene. "Stupefy!" Neville yelled one last time. At that, Malfoy fell to the floor stunned. Harry looked at the three Slytherins and blinked widely at Neville. The once timid Gryffindor was also surveying the scene, admiring the damage he had inflicted.

"Thank you, Neville," Harry stammered.

"Don't mention it," Neville replied confidently. "It was nice to use my new wand in an...er...practical situation." Neville was beaming holding out his wand for Harry to view. Harry suddenly remembered how Neville's old wand, which had been his father's, was broken in the battle at the Department of Mysteries.

"Wow, it looks like mine," Harry said noticing the similarities. Indeed Neville's new wand looked to be made out of holly and about the same length.

"Yeah," commented Neville. "Mr. Ollivander said that holly wands are common for people born in July."

Harry and Neville made their way back to Gryffindor Tower discussing various things. Neville told Harry all about his summer and his grandmother's reaction to his involvement at the Ministry in June. "She took it really well, actually," Neville explained. "I thought she'd be really mad at me because of Dad's wand, but I think that I finally made Gran proud of me." Neville was beaming again. Harry smiled in return. He knew what it was like to have to live with a certain stigma because of who you were. Yet, Harry could not imagine what Neville's childhood must have been growing up with the stigma of who you weren't. Perhaps now Neville had escaped his father's shadow.

"Narro Veritas!" Harry said once they reached the Fat Lady.

"Indeed," replied the portrait sleepily. She swung open allowing the two wizards to enter. Harry bade Neville farewell at that point having spotted Ron and Hermione by the fire.

"Harry!" Hermione greeted blushing for some reason. "How did it go?"

"Oh great!" Harry said excitedly. "Not only am I back on the team but I'm captain too!"

Ron whooped out of excitement, but Hermione looked thoughtful. "Harry," she said cautiously, "don't you think you've got enough to worry about without having to plan quidditch practices and such." It was obvious that she didn't want to burst Harry's bubble too soon, but Harry had already known where she was headed. Ron, however, was looking scandalized.

"Don't worry, Hermione," grinned Harry. "I'm going to have plenty of help."

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.

"Because Ron's captain too."

Ron began to cough and choke wildly. "What?" he gasped. Harry could no longer contain his laughter.

"I told McGonagall that I thought I could not handle being captain by myself and that you would do a great job," Harry chuckled. "So we're co-captains."

Ron immediately took to his new role with an incredible appetite. As Harry explained to he and Hermione what had transpired in the corridor with Malfoy and Neville, Ron busied himself with preparing a practice schedule and tryout poster.

"I wish I could have seen Malfoy's face when he realized it was Neville who got the best of him," Ron said holding up his poster for Harry and Hermione to scrutinize.

"To be honest, Neville and I didn't hang around for him to wake up," Harry said. "But I think we'll have to be careful, I bet Malfoy will be really gunning for Neville now." Hermione nodded her agreement as Ron strode across the common room and tacked his poster to the notice board.

"We only have one position to replace," Ron mused. Harry realized that his friend was far too occupied by thoughts of quidditch for any serious discussion. Hermione had noticed this as well, which was evident by her rolling eyes.

* * *

Gryffindor quidditch tryouts were a fairly quick affair that Friday night. Only a handful of prospective players had turned up, and though none were terrible the choice was fairly obvious.

"I think we should choose Euan Abercrombie," Harry decided.

"Yeah," concurred Ron. "Almost everyone had a good tryout, but I think that Euan showed just a little more desire than the others."

Harry smiled as he remembered Euan as a terrified-looking first year the previous year. Though Euan was still quite tiny, he was now a much more confident second year. If Harry really thought about it, he supposed Euan reminded him a bit of himself. He had thought that the first moment he laid eyes on the boy and he still felt that way.

Harry yawned widely. He realized just how tired he was. It was a good thing the next day was Saturday. Harry could use the extra rest. He and Ron made their way back up to the castle from the quidditch pitch. They talked excitedly about the upcoming season and their chances to retain the cup for another year.

"I think I'm going straight to bed," Harry announced was he and Ron finally reached the common room.

"Okay," Ron replied and he left to join a studying Hermione at a table. As Harry ascended the staircase to the dormitories he could not help but smile when he heard Ron say, "It's 9:00 on Friday night! What are you studying Arithmancy for?"

Harry changed into his pajamas and sank restfully into his pillows. He sighed contently as his eyelids became heavier with each passing second. In no time Harry was deep in sleep dreaming of quidditch victories and happier times....

Harry's trusty Firebolt was weaving in and out of a multitude of opposing players. It was poetry in motion. There was the snitch glittering before him. If he could just reach it. Harry stretched out his fingers. He was only inches away, but then the snitch seemed to be gathering speed. It was pulling away! Harry's Firebolt was unable to match its pace. _This isn't right_, Harry thought. He reached out again, willing his arm to extend as far as possible....

The dream changed....

_"Welcome, Mr. Potter," _said a high, cold voice,_ "I've been expecting you. It has been wrong of you to keep me waiting these last few months. I had hoped you would come to me much sooner." _Harry could not see anything. He could only sense a presence. As if once more reaching for the golden snitch Harry's stretched out his hand grasping blindly into darkness. _"You can not reach me here, Potter," _the voice continued. _"I am like the wisp of smoke left lingering from an extinguished candle. But do not despair, my friend, you will see me eye to eye soon enough." _The voice was laughing now and a mixture of anger and dread congested Harry's soul.

"Where are you?" Harry asked.

_"Patience, Potter," _the voice said. _"It is only a matter of time before we meet again, by then it will be too late for you. I have a new weapon, a weapon that will render your talents useless. But do not fret, I will make myself known to you long before then." _The tone in the voice was mocking now. Harry looked all around, but all remained as black as ever. _"You will see me in the one's you hold dear. You will know when I strike them down and leave you a human wasteland. Until then, sweet dreams, my young friend."_

Harry awoke with a start. The first rays of dawn were creeping up over the horizon. Harry's dream must have lasted most of the night. Harry could feel the urgency well up inside him. He must go, he must tell the one man who could help. Harry did not even bother to put on his slippers or grab his dressing gown. Barefoot and clad only in his pajamas, Harry flew down the dormitory steps and out of the portrait hole. His heart was hammering in his ears as he ran. How he would get past Dumbledore's gargoyle he did not know. All he knew was that he get there as quickly as he could.

Harry turned the corridor that led to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle was in sight and only spurred Harry to run faster. The final few steps to the entrance Harry racked his brain for passwords, but the gargoyle jumped aside before he could utter a single guess. Albus Dumbledore was riding down the rotating stairs with a mug in his hand.

"Harry?" the professor exclaimed bewildered to see his student outside his office so early in the morning. Dumbledore was wearing a snowy white nightshirt beneath an ornate purple dressing gown. "Harry what are you doing here?"

"I...had...a...dream!" Harry gasped out of breath. He suddenly realized how cold his feet felt upon the stone floor.

"Come," Professor Dumbledore ordered and ushered Harry onto the stairs. They reentered Dumbledore's office and the older wizard steered Harry toward his fireplace. With a flick of his wand a roaring fire appeared in the grate. "You must be freezing," Dumbledore surmised.

"Thank you, Sir," Harry said noticing himself shivering.

"Now, tell me about this dream," Dumbledore requested. The professor flicked his wand once more and produced two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

"It was different from all the dreams I've had before now," Harry explained accepting his hot chocolate.

"How so?" inquired the Headmaster.

"Well, before I would be Voldemort, you know, exist in the dream from his perspective. But this time it was like Voldemort sought me out to talk to me," said Harry. If Dumbledore found this information odd or unexpected he acted as though it did not. "He said he has a new weapon."

"A weapon?" Dumbledore questioned arching an eyebrow. "What kind of weapon?"

"I don't know, Sir," Harry replied. "He just said that it would 'render my talents useless.'" Professor Dumbledore stared into his mug of hot chocolate as though it could provide him with answers.

"Harry, did you practice your Occlumency before you went to bed?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"No," Harry sighed guiltily. "I guess I was so tired I fell asleep and forgot about it." Dumbledore's lips thinned to a very small line. "Sorry," Harry added.

"Harry I am not upset or angry with you," Dumbledore consoled. "I am just unsure that you are ready for what I am going to ask of you."

"What do you mean, Professor?" Harry asked.

"I guess I do not know if you trust me yet."

"Trust you?" Harry stammered. "What do you want me to do?"

"Harry, I want you to give me permission to look into your mind to view your dream as you had," Professor Dumbledore revealed. "Will you allow me to do so?"

"What will that accomplish?" Harry inquired uncertainly. He knew Dumbledore would not hurt him, but he was not comfortable with the idea of someone probing his thoughts.

"I am hoping it will provide us with some insight as to Voldemort's plans," said Dumbledore.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Okay," he consented. Harry sat down onto a chair and turned to face his professor. Dumbledore pulled another chair in front of his pupil and likewise sat down.

"Relax you mind, Harry," Dumbledore directed. The older wizard stared intently into Harry's eyes. At first Harry thought that nothing had happened. When Snape intruded into Harry's brain it felt forced, almost violent. Dumbledore's gaze was soft, almost nonexistent. Harry was about to ask if Dumbledore had began when...

_"Welcome, Mr. Potter," _said a high, cold voice,_ "I've been expecting you. It has been wrong of you to keep me waiting these last few months. I had hoped you would come to me much sooner." _Harry could not see anything. He could only sense a presence. As if once more reaching for the golden snitch Harry's stretched out his hand grasping blindly into darkness. _"You can not reach me here, Potter," _the voice continued. _"I am like the wisp of smoke left lingering from an extinguished candle. But do not despair, my friend, you will see me eye to eye soon enough." _The voice was laughing now and a mixture of anger and dread congested Harry's soul.

"Where are you?" Harry asked.

_"Patience, Potter," _the voice said. _"It is only a matter of time before we meet again, by then it will be too late for you. I have a new weapon, a weapon that will render your talents useless. But do not fret, I will make myself known to you long before then." _The tone in the voice was mocking now. Harry looked all around, but all remained as black as ever. _"You will see me in the one's you hold dear. You will know when I strike them down and leave you a human wasteland. Until then, sweet dreams, my young friend."_

_Strike down, _Harry thought._ Strike down those whom I hold dear...Sirius... Sirius struck down..._

The memory in Harry's brain became enveloped in a brilliant light. It was almost as though Harry's subconscious had to close its eyes to it. When the blazing glow subsided Harry was no longer hearing Voldemort's voice. Instead he was back in the Department of Mysteries. In the Death Room to be exact.

_No, _Harry thought. _I don't want to see this again._

_Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come one, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room._

_The second jet of red light hit him squarely on the chest._

_The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock._

_Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too._

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall..._

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Harry shouted. "I DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS AGAIN!" Deep in the recesses of Harry's brain an animal was unleashed. A fierce, snarling creature that fought its way forward. The creature pushed hard against the memory until it was once again enveloped in brilliant light. Harry's ears were filled with a sound like rushing wind or water. It was deafening. When his awareness returned as the dazzling light and sound abruptly stopped. Harry was no longer seeing Sirius, or hearing Voldemort's voice. It was a new vision to him, something most certainly not from his own mind.

_"Mama!" _cried a small boy of five or six. The boy was crawling on his hand and knees to the body of a woman lying lifeless on the floor. She had the same auburn hair and blue eyes of the boy beside her, but her eyes were glazed and absent of any spark. _"Mama, wake up!" _pleaded the boy again shaking one of the woman's shoulders. Tears cascaded down the child's cheeks. When they fell softly upon the woman's expressionless face, the memory changed once more in a rush of images.

The young child was gone, instead a man stood leaning his forehead against a wall. The man had the same auburn hair and blue eyes. The man pounded his fist upon the wall, the anguish on his face was obvious. _"I'm sorry!" _the man shouted. _"My God, what have I done! I am so sorry..."_

"ENOUGH!" a voice yelled out onto the air.

Harry felt himself slam back into his seat. His eyes fluttered open. He was back in Dumbledore's office. Professor Dumbledore was leaning forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. Harry could see the sweat beading upon Dumbledore's brow.

"Sir?" Harry offered timidly. Dumbledore leaned far back in his own chair with a loud, sudden exhale. "Sir?" Harry asked again.

"No one has ever pushed that far into my mind Harry," Dumbledore murmured wearily. "Please do not do that again."

Harry could not believe his ears. How could Dumbledore have the audacity to make such a request when he had just done the exact same thing? He had tried to force Harry to relive Sirius's death. "HOW DARE YOU!" Harry shouted suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?" replied a clearly dismayed Professor Dumbledore.

"YOU INVADED MY MEMORY ABOUT SIRIUS! WHY?" Harry was seething with rage.

"Harry," Dumbledore spoke so softly Harry had to strain to hear him. The Headmaster slid forward off his seat to kneel in front of his student. He placed each hand on either arm of Harry's chair. "Harry, I did not invoke your memory of Sirius. _You_ did that."

Harry blinked incredulously. "I did? How did I do that?"

"Sometimes our memories will link to one another," Dumbledore disclosed. "Harry I could hear your thoughts while observing your dream. Your brain connected Voldemort's threat to attack those you love with Sirius's death. I would never force you to relive anything you did not wish to share with me." Dumbledore rose to his feet and returned to his vacated chair.

"Sir?" Harry asked hesitantly. "May I ask you something."

"Of course," the professor remarked.

"The little boy, and the man," Harry began nervously, "were they...were they you?"

Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily again. "I suppose," he said, "that since you have already seen it I may as well offer an explanation for what you witnessed. Yes, the little boy was me."

"What happened?" Harry prodded.

"What you saw was the result of an attack on our home when I was a child. My mother and I were home alone when two men came to the door. At five years of age I, of course, had no idea what was going on. My mother hid me in a closet and told me to remain quiet until she came back for me."

"But she didn't come back," interjected Harry.

"No, I crawled from my hiding place to discover her as you observed in the memory. She was dead," Dumbledore voice broke painfully.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled. Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively and stared out the window. The sun had risen properly now and the first of the early-risers were heading down to breakfast. "Sir, what about the man?"

Dumbledore turned to face his student. A tear hung in the corner of his eye and the professor wiped it away before going on. "That was me about fifty years ago, but Harry, if you will forgive me, I do not wish to explain any further."

Harry nodded. As miserable as Harry had felt in recent weeks it was nothing compared to now. Harry realized how completely shortsighted he had been. He was not the only one who had suffered in his lifetime. Professor Dumbledore's memories were an epiphany into this new reality.

"Harry," Dumbledore said shaking Harry from his reverie. "I think you had better head back to you tower. We will discuss this another time." The professor smiled weakly.

Harry rose from his seat and made his way to the door. As he paused in the entryway he turned back to look reassuringly into Professor Dumbledore's face. He knew that he had already forgiven the Headmaster, but Harry understood that the time had come for Dumbledore to let go of his guilt regarding Harry.

"Sir?" Harry prompted. Professor Dumbledore met Harry's gaze with yet another half-hearted smile. "I just wanted to let you know that I forgive you for not telling me about the prophecy sooner. We all have regrets, Professor, let this one go." With a few more steps Harry slipped from Dumbledore's presence, but not before softly whispering, "I trust you."

* * *

_Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her. "Come one, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room._

_The second jet of red light hit him squarely on the chest._

_The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock._

_Harry released Neville, though he was unaware of doing so. He was jumping down the steps again pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too._

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall..._

_ -Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, Chapter 35, "Beyond the Veil", pp. 805-806, American Edition


	5. What Might Have Been

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Hopefully your patience will pay off for all of you this chapter! As always, many thanks to my reviewers: Quill of Minerva, Nightwing 509, mugglemin, Lou. McGonagall, Aurinko, and Joelpup62! I am happy that I am providing you all with a story that keeps you coming back for more!

**Chapter Five: What Might Have Been**

After Voldemort's first success of breaking into Harry's dreams, life quieted down significantly. Harry attended classes, kept a watchful eye on Malfoy, continued his chats with Professor Dumbledore, and of course played quidditch. The first match of that season had taken place at the start of November and had been a completely one-sided affair. Ravenclaw had played well, but Gryffindor's playing ability was clearly superior.

The end of November had brought Slytherins first opportunity to prove themselves under the captaincy of one Draco Malfoy. It was no surprise when they had defeated Hufflepuff, but as Ron pointed out, there was always the chance Crabbe or Goyle would confuse Malfoy's head as a bludger in a team practice.

"I can dream can't I?" Ron said laughing at his own joke. Harry chuckled along with his best friend. Sharing the captain duties with Ron had been a wonderful experience for Harry.

As the end of term approached, many students began to talk excitedly about their holiday plans. It was the first time in his years at Hogwarts that Harry did not know what to do for the break. Normally he would have stayed at the castle happily with no regrets. But seeing as his Aunt Petunia had offered an olive branch at the start of term, Harry sort of felt he owed it to her to come back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Harry shared his concerns with his two closest friends.

"What do you think I should do?" Harry asked after explaining the situation to them. To say Ron was less than helpful would be an enormous understatement. He simply stared at Harry with a glossy expression and mouth agape. Apparently advice on matters of estranged relatives was beyond him.

"Do you really want to go to Privet Drive for Christmas?" Hermione asked shoving Ron off of the couch to awaken him from his stupor.

"Well, no," Harry admitted.

"Then don't," advised Hermione. "Because even though you've made peace with your aunt I am assuming your uncle would still be considerably less than thrilled."

Harry laughed, "You could say that."

"I guess I would just write her a nice letter to let her know you are thinking of her. She'd understand why you wouldn't actually go home," Hermione added.

"Thanks Hermione, I could kiss you!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise and Ron looked mortified. "But I won't," Harry said sheepishly upon seeing their faces. An awkward moment of silence passed between the three of them before one by one they began to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

Harry retreated to his dormitory to write his Christmas letter to Aunt Petunia. He was unsure as to how to begin. Harry, deciding the direct approach was best, let all he was feeling flow onto the parchment. Occasionally he would become dissatisfied by what he had written and crumple up the letter and begin anew. Once the letter was finally finished Harry reread it a couple of times to make sure it was worded just right. Satisfied he grabbed the letter and his invisibility cloak. Harry descended the dormitory steps and entered the common room. Ron and Hermione were still sitting on the couch together. They were speaking in hushed tones and jumped in surprise when they saw Harry had returned.

"I'm going to the owlery," Harry stated eyeing his friends suspiciously. "Are you two okay? You're acting really odd." Hermione blushed so severely she matched Ron's hair.

"We're f-fine," Ron stuttered. His eyes were darting around the room as if searching for a change of subject. "Why are you t-taking your c-cloak?" he squeaked.

"I guess I don't want to have to worry about running into anyone," Harry shrugged. With that Harry turned and exited the portrait hole as he covered himself in the cloak. The walk to the owlery was a quiet one. Harry spent the journey considering his two friends. They were acting stranger than they were admitting. Harry thought about all he had observed the last few days. It seemed Ron and Hermione had spent a lot of time together. Even more than usual. Harry also realized how much Hermione seemed to blush these days. _It's like they're keeping something from me_, Harry thought.

Harry ascended the stone steps to the owlery and was greeted by the soft sounds of hundreds of hooting owls. Harry searched the rafters for Hedwig. This took awhile as there were so many owls. "Hedwig!" Harry called after spotting her nestled between two of the school's large barn owls. Hedwig glided gracefully down and perched upon Harry's shoulder. She nipped his ear affectionately and stuck out her leg awaiting the letter she knew she would be delivering. "I've got a very important job for you, Hedwig," Harry explained to her. Hedwig hooted in a dignified manner as Harry tied Petunia's letter to the snowy owl's leg. "Give this to Aunt Petunia for me, but make sure she is by herself when you deliver it. Uncle Vernon can't be around, okay?" Hedwig nipped his ear again and soared out of the window into the night.

* * *

Christmas morning Harry was awoken by someone's pillow hitting him in the face. Harry flung his hands out defensively. His brain was too groggy from sleep to take in what was going on around him or even what day it was.

"Harry!" yelled an amused voice. "Harry! Oy! Presents!" That did it. Harry's eyes snapped open and a broadly grinning Ron was tearing into the mountain of packages at the end of his bed. Harry looked to the foot of his own bed to see his own, but slightly smaller, pile.

Harry loved Christmas. It wasn't the presents, though those were a nice bonus. It was the one time of the year that Harry always knew that people were without a doubt thinking of him. It warmed his heart and made him smile. Harry had received his annual Weasley sweater from Mrs. Weasley as well as a dozen homemade mice pies. The sweater this year was a handsome, dark blue. Hermione had given him a box of Chocolate Frogs and a pair of quidditch goggles that he could wear over his glasses to keep out the elements. A large poster showing all of the quidditch teams of England came from Ron. Harry eyed it enthusiastically. Like all posters, pictures, and paintings in the wizarding world, the figures moved around trying to demonstrate their prowess. Occasionally the players from opposing teams would call soundlessly to one another as if bragging about their skills. Harry laughed as he watched the Chudley Cannons team puff out their chests indignantly.

"I don't believe it," Harry heard Ron gasp.

"What?" Harry asked bewildered.

Ron held his own new sweater in front of him, "It's _not _maroon! Mum must have switched it with someone else's by mistake." Harry laughed. For the first time in six Christmases at Hogwarts Ron had not received a maroon sweater. By some miracle Mrs. Weasley must have finally realized that Ron hated maroon. Now he could proudly wear his deep green sweater. Harry laughed again as Ron pulled it over his head.

At that moment Hermione came striding into the boys' dormitory cradling Crookshanks to her. She was also wearing a Weasley sweater. Hers was a light powder blue and was actually quite pretty. "Happy Christmas!" she called.

"Wow," Ron said his eyes wide. "Mum made you a sweater too this year. It...uh...it really sets off your eyes."

_Did Ron just say what I think he just said? _Harry thought to himself as Hermione blushed yet again. "Okay!" Harry yelled exasperatedly. Ron and Hermione both startled. "I _know_ something is up! What is with you guys?" Hermione glanced at Ron uneasily. She joined him on his bed and Ron just shrugged his shoulders at her imploring look.

"Alright," Hermione said at last. "We'll tell you Harry. Well, we, er, we've been acting strange because, hmmm..." She seemed unable to find the right words.

"We're together, mate," Ron finished for her. "We didn't know how you'd react, so we didn't say anything." Harry felt his jaw drop. Ron and Hermione? His two best friends were a couple? How had he not noticed?

"Th-that's g-great," Harry stammered. "I mean, wow!" Harry did his best to sound happy about this development, but in truth he was unsure as to what he really thought. Hermione beamed at him as Ron enclosed her hand in his own. "I'm really happy for you guys!" Harry announced, again trying to sound sincere.

Hermione rose from Ron's side and gave Harry a hug. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm going to go change for lunch. See you in a minute?" Both boys nodded as she left the room.

Harry watched her go with an odd sense of confusion rattling his brain. _That sweater really does set off her eyes_, Harry thought, but he quickly mentally slapped himself afterward. Harry turned to face Ron digging through his package of sweets and pranks from Fred and George. "So, you and Hermione, huh?" Harry said at last.

"Yep," Ron replied. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Oh absolutely," Harry responded trying to sound cheery. Yet something continued to gnaw at Harry's insides.

The Great Hall was decked out in grand style as usual. The twelve Christmas trees were decorated magnificently and snow fell from the enchanted ceiling, but dissipated before reaching the heads of the hall's occupants. Because so few students had stayed behind for the holiday break only one long table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, clad in their new Weasley sweaters, were apparently the last ones to arrive as every seat around the table save three were filled. The trio took their seats as the mouth-watering smells of a wide array of dishes began to overtake them. Harry glanced toward the end of the table where the professors were all sitting. He made eye contact with Hagrid and warmly smiled.

"Happy Christmas yeh three!" Hagrid called waving so boisterously that he knocked over Professor McGonagall's goblet. The goblet's contents spread out like a red blanket over the white table cloth as McGonagall flashed Hagrid a reproving glare.

"Allow me, my dear," Professor Dumbledore said trying to diffuse any argument. With a flick of his wand the tablecloth was returned to its original pristine condition.

After many succulent courses of stews, soufflés, and casseroles galore, Harry's stomach was fit to bursting when the dessert course appeared on the table. Harry glanced at Ron who was clutching his own stomach with an expression of agony on his face. Though he readily dug into a pudding before him. Hermione was peering at Ron with a mix of disgust and adoration on her face. Perhaps it was the knowledge he would pay for his gluttony later that offered a sense of grim satisfaction.

Following the feast the three made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady was celebrating Christmas in her own way with visitors from other portraits. She had what looked suspiciously like a bottle of brandy in her hand and was swaying and singing joyously with her painted friends.

"Narro Veritas!" Hermione said shaking her head.

"Same, hic, to you, hic!" The Fat Lady replied swinging open to allow their admittance to the common room.

The afternoon flew by. Many games of Exploding Snap, Gobstones, and Wizarding Chess led to an evening of the trio simply sitting around the fire talking happily about the gifts they had received that morning. They were so involved in the discussion that they had not realized that the portrait hole had opened once more to yield a newcomer to the comfy atmosphere.

"Well, well," said an amused voice, "I surely thought I'd have to break up some wild bash knowing you three." All three students whipped around to see Professor McGonagall with an uncharacteristic grin gracing her normally thin lips. Hermione had uttered a small gasp of surprise when the professor spoke and she quickly withdrew her hand from Ron's.

"Er, something we can do for you, Professor?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"No, nothing, Mr. Potter," McGonagall chuckled at her students. "I just did not have the opportunity to speak to you properly at the Christmas feast this afternoon." The professor moved toward the fire and sat down on a chair opposite her young charges. "I merely wanted to wish you all a Happy Christmas."

"Well, thank you," Hermione said, being the first to snap out of the students' collective state of shock. "A Merry Christmas to you too."

"Thank you Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall replied. She seemed to be contemplating Ron and Hermione's proximity to one another, but said nothing. Ron shifted uneasily on the couch. Professor McGonagall evidently took note of this as she turned to speak to Ron. "So, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter here tells me you are quite the chess player."

"I guess so," Ron squeaked.

"Well, would you fancy a match?" McGonagall inquired.

"What?" Ron blurted. "Play you, Professor?"

"Well, if you don't want to that's fine, I just thought..." Professor McGonagall replied very quickly.

"No! It's not that," dodged Ron, "I was just surprised that you would want to play me. I figured surely you would prefer to play Professor Dumbledore or something."

"Normally I do play Professor Dumbledore, but seeing as he has not beaten me in about, oh..." McGonagall gazed at the ceiling calculating, "fifteen years, I thought I'd see if you are up to the challenge." Ron looked from Harry to Hermione with a curious expression.

"Sure," Ron said confidently. "I'll get my board."

"Excellent!" Professor McGonagall remarked happily clapping her hands together. "But I warn you, Mr. Weasley, I know that you defeated my transfigured chessboard years ago, but you will find the real me is a much more formidable opponent."

"I don't doubt that one bit," laughed Ron.

A tremendous battle ensued. McGonagall seemed deeply impressed by Ron's skill. He was able to match her stride for stride. Anytime the professor captured a piece, Ron countered with a capture of his own. Harry, though interested in the outcome of the match, found himself repeatedly distracted by Hermione. She would cheer Ron on, laugh at the banter between the players, and smile that oh so sweet smile of hers. The familiar unease began to rise in Harry's stomach again and he was once more flustered by its meaning.

"I think I'm going to bed," Harry announced suddenly. "I'm not feeling well."

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked with a note of concern in her voice. "Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?"

"Oh, no, I just had too much to eat," Harry lied. He quickly ascended the stairs to his dormitory. Harry was unaware of changing into his pajamas that night, his mind was busy elsewhere. As he climbed into his four-poster and pulled the curtains tight around him, Harry pondered all that had taken place that day. Why did he feel uneasy all of a sudden whenever he looked at Hermione? True, she and Ron had announced their relationship to him, but Harry could hardly fail to notice that Hermione was a girl and would therefore eventually hook up with someone. Harry supposed he must simply have been caught off guard by the fact that Ron had become that someone.

Harry rolled over onto his side. He could not wipe the thoughts of his two friends from his brain. The fact that he could hear them occasionally laugh with Professor McGonagall down in the common room did not help matters. Harry began to consider his two friends and a smile spread across his face. He remembered meeting Ron on the Hogwarts Express. Harry recalled the bubbly redhead with the smudged nose and how it had been Hermione who had pointed that out. Oh what a snot they thought she was back then! _She kind of still is_, Harry thought with a smirk. But that was the Hermione he had grown to know. The Hermione with the bushy hair and far too large brain. The Hermione who would risk anything to help her friends. The Hermione who had invoked jealousy in Ron over Viktor Krum. The Hermione who put her life on the line to help him find Sirius. Hermione, the very thought of her now made Harry's stomach twist and turn.

In that moment a force like an electric surge forced its way through Harry's body. He shot upright in bed and slapped his hand to his forehead in realization. "I'm jealous," Harry whispered aloud. "I'm jealous of Ron!" Harry flopped back down onto his pillows. He could feel the words in his chest begging to erupt from his mouth. Quickly, Harry grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and pushed it hard over his own mouth as he yelled exasperatedly into the feather barrier, "I love Hermione!"

Harry awoke early the next morning, the epiphany he experienced the night before still hung heavily on the air. Harry worked his way down to the common room. The fire had died out, and Ron's chess set remained on the table where it had been used. Harry sat down and picked up one of the queens. He turned it over and over in his hands. The queen, what a fitting role it played in chess. She was a seemingly innocent piece, yet commanded the most influence on the board. Harry chuckled mirthlessly to himself as he compared his own life to the chessboard before him. _Yes, Hermione's the queen, Ron the king, and I'm just the pawn_," Harry thought painfully. Sounds of footfalls stirred Harry from his meditation. Harry quickly returned the chess piece in his hand to the board just as Ron entered the common room.

"Good morning, Ha-a-arry," Ron yawned.

"Morning,"Harry greeted. "So how'd the game turn out?" he asked nodding to the abandoned board.

"It was a draw!" Ron moaned. "Can you believe it? We played until three in the morning and it ended a draw!"

"Well, at least you can say that McGonagall didn't beat you," Harry mused.

"That's true," Ron admitted, "but next time I'm going to..."

But Harry did not listen to what Ron would try next time. His mind became preoccupied with Hermione. All Harry could do was nod anytime Ron paused in his analysis. He would just have to ignore his feelings, that was all there was to it. _Yeah, _Harry thought, _good luck hopeless.

* * *

_

Pretty soon Harry was praying for the end of the break and when Gryffindor Tower would be filled with the sounds of laughter. Each day Harry was bombarded with the realization that he had wasted his time regarding Hermione. He had simply lost his chance with her. Harry new that his Gryffindor bravery did not exist when it came to admitting the truth of what he felt. How could he? Doing so would cause him to lose both Ron and Hermione's friendship. Those friendships were more important to him than any thoughts of what might have been.

Harry's reluctance was deeper than that, however. It started as an echo deep in the shallows of his brain. The echo grew unto it was nothing short of a dull roar overpowering Harry's every thought of his two friends.

_"You will see me in the one's you hold dear. You will know when I strike them down and leave you a human wasteland."_

Voldemort. Even if Harry was able to confess to Hermione how he felt, Voldemort would still be there. Could Harry live with himself if anything happened to her, or Ron, for that matter? Once again Harry felt smothered by a cloud of irony that subjugated how he could live his life. Professor Trelawney had been right those sixteen years ago. Neither could live, Harry felt that he certainly wasn't. His was half an existence. Would he be condemned to this fate until the end of his days? One thing was certain, Harry could never tell Hermione how he felt about her. Doing so would only jeopardize her safety.

Luckily Harry did not have time to dwell on these troubling thoughts. As Harry wished, the students returned to school for their new term. Hogwarts was busy and bustling again. Classes resumed and Harry poured everything he had into two things: his studies and quidditch. For awhile this worked extremely well to take Harry's mind off of Ron and Hermione's new found relationship. Ron and Hermione seemed to be helping Harry's refocus along as well. They were perfectly content with keeping their relationship a secret. For as openly loving as Harry had observed them at Christmas, their current behavior seemed almost distant. Ron and Hermione limited their expressions of affection to smiles and losing themselves in each other's eyes.

Yet even with the distraction of classes and quidditch practices, Harry could not chase one thought from his brain. He felt forever overwhelmed by the presence of Voldemort. The evil wizard had not yet showed himself to Harry as he claimed he would, but Harry felt ever wary. All the extra lessons and discussions with Professor Dumbledore seemed pointless now in Harry's estimation. He felt desperate, out of control. How can one prepare for the unknown and unforeseen? Sleep was quickly becoming an illusion as well. Harry was simply afraid to close his eyes. Harry had been fairly vigilant in keeping up with nightly Occlumency ritual, but that did not mean Voldemort had not attempted to invade his dreams anyway. Flashes of forced images or voices had tried to infuse with Harry's nighttime images, but so far Harry had kept them at bay. Yet Harry knew all too well that his increasing fatigue would make this much more difficult to withstand in the days ahead. He must get some rest, or he may find himself at the mercy of Voldemort's darkest illusions.

With that in mind that Harry found himself falling onto his bed on one of his free afternoons. Ron and Hermione had asked if he wanted to go to the library with them to research an essay for Professor Flitwick, but Harry had to decline. He was simply too exhausted to comprehend anything at the moment. Harry only kicked off his shoes before sliding wearily beneath the covers. His head barely made contact with the pillow before he succumbed to a deep slumber.

Harry was walking along the edge of the lake...The giant squid was basking in the sun...Before him Harry saw Ron and Hermione...He called out to them, but they did not hear him...They seemed to be gazing intently at something...Harry was at their side now...He called their names once more, but this time his voice soundly strange cold, very unlike his own...They still did not hear him...Harry turned to look at what they were peering at so intently...Harry felt a strong urge to panic envelope him, but his now high, cold voice was laughing...Harry pushed his way between Ron and Hermione...They were like air as he passed not between them, but rather through them...The sight on the ground took his breath away but the laughter continued...Harry was staring at himself...His body was lying in his own blood...Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione again...They still stared at Harry's body, but their expression were not sad or upset...They were indifferent...Indifferent to his death...Indifferent...Suddenly Hermione stiffened...Her face paled and she fell dead next to Harry's body...Harry quickly looked into Ron's eyes...He was still staring blankly before he too went rigid and collapsed dead onto the ground...Harry turned to his own corpse again and gasped...He was no longer there...Instead a pale white face with red, slit-like eyes faced him...The being touched his arm...His scar exploded with pain...

_"You have done well to keep me out these last few weeks, Potter," _Harry heard himself say as the pale entity mouthed wordlessly. _"You cannot deny me forever. This is a glimpse of what I have in store for you. I also know that you care for her, Potter. Did you think she could ever love you back? I will not be denied my vengeance this time. You are already useless against me, boy! I will soon be rejoicing my victory and your demise. I shall look forward to our next meeting."_

Harry awoke to find himself on the floor. His body felt on fire and he was tangled tightly in his bed coverings. He felt restrained, almost hysterical. His forehead was throbbing painfully as the sweat poured from his brow. He had to get up, he had to talk to Dumbledore. He needed Dumbledore. Harry staggered, his feet would not work properly. Ron and Hermione...

They were detached. It was all Harry could do to keep from vomiting. Ron and Hermione disinterested in his death? That wasn't right. Indifferent... _It was a dream, a dream, only a dream, _Harry thought.

"Potter!" someone yelled. Harry couldn't see, the pain in his scar was blurring his vision. "Potter?" they said again.

"Dumbledore," Harry whimpered. Harry could feel himself being steered along by someone. He did not know who it was, or where they were taking him. It was imperative that they understand. "Dumbledore," Harry whispered once more.

"Minerva?" It was a new voice.

"I found him like this. He was calling your name."

Harry could feel a pair of hands cradle his head. They were whispering soft words into his ear. Reluctantly the blinding pain was receding. Harry blinked heavily to force his eyes to focus. Harry took in the scene around him. He had made it to Dumbledore's office. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were there. The Headmaster was still holding his head comfortingly.

"Harry," Dumbledore said fearfully, "what happened to you?"

"Dream," Harry croaked fighting the urge to gag.

"You had another dream with Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked. Harry nodded. Professor Dumbledore turned to the Deputy Headmistress, "Thank you, Minerva. I know you have a class." McGonagall peered into Harry's eyes. Harry was shocked at what he saw there. Was it pity? Dumbledore grabbed her arm. "He'll be fine," he said soothingly. At last she nodded and quietly left the office.

"Tell me what happened," Dumbledore ordered softly, guiding Harry to a chair.

"At first I was dreaming I was walking around the lake," stated Harry shakily. "I saw Ron and Hermione, but I don't think they could hear or see me. When I went up to them I saw that they were staring at a body on the ground."

"Who was it, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore implored.

"Me." Dumbledore nodded with understanding. "They were looking at me like they didn't care..." Harry trailed away.

"Harry, Voldemort is trying to plant seeds of distrust in your mind," Dumbledore explained. "You are smart enough to recognize the lies he will show you. Trust your instincts Harry, they will not fail you."

"He said he was giving me a glimpse of what was coming. Professor, they were dying around me." Harry did not reveal what Voldemort had said about Hermione loving him. It was too personal.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully," the Headmaster firmly replied. "It was a dream, Harry, nothing more. Do not believe what he showed you. Ron and Hermione did not die, they are most certainly still with us."

Harry sighed. He could feel the pain and anxiety finally leaving him. "Thank you, Sir," said Harry. It was then that Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore seemed to be considering him searchingly.

"There is something more," Dumbledore prompted. "There is something else that is bothering you."

"N-no," Harry evaded uneasily. Harry knew this conversation could only lead to territory he would just as soon as avoid right now.

Dumbledore surveyed Harry for a few moments. He was seated with his hands together, fingers resting on his lips. Harry realized he was trying to determine what that something more really was. The silence was becoming increasingly uncomfortable before Dumbledore finally broke it. "Why so miserable, Harry?" he asked imploringly.

Harry new exactly why he felt so miserable, but it was not something he considered sharing with his Headmaster. "Um...I'm just worried about...about...what might happen with Voldemort," he lied. Harry knew he had sounded less than convincing.

"You have feelings for someone and are afraid to express them," Dumbledore surmised sagely.

Harry was taken quite aback by this response. _It's like he can read my mind_. Harry thought. _Of course he can, stupid, he's a Legilimens_. Harry resigned himself to the fact that Dumbledore knew him too well and sat down. He cradled his head in his hands. He had not wanted Dumbledore to know those feelings. Suddenly, feeling affronted, Harry turned a fierce gaze to the man before him. "I don't want you reading my mind like that!" Harry yelled. "Voldemort is always trying to get in my head, so I don't need that from you too!" His anger vented, Harry was relieved that he had at least remained in enough control to stay seated.

A hint of a smile began to tug at the corners of Dumbledore's mouth, "I did not look into you mind with Legilimens. As I have said before, I would not dream of invading your privacy like that."

"Th-then," Harry stuttered, "how did you know?"

"I have seen that look far too many times not to know," He explained. "Are you afraid Miss Granger will not return your affections? Or per chance, is there something else?"

Harry never thought he would have a conversation like this with anyone, let alone the most powerful wizard in the world. "It's both really. Hang on," Harry faltered, "how do you know I like Hermione?"

"Relax, dear boy," Dumbledore chuckled. "Anyone who has ever been in love has looked the way you do when Miss Granger is around." He continued to smile for a few moments. The smile faded as he continued. "Harry, it is up to you whether you choose to heed my advice, but understand this: you will remain miserable until either you tell her how you feel, or you move on. I have a hunch that it will not be the latter."

"But she's with Ron," Harry blurted out looking even more downtrodden, "and I'm happy for them. I really am."

"I believe you, Harry," Dumbledore stated. "However, my advice remains the same."

"You want me to break up my two best friends?" Harry gasped appalled.

Dumbledore held up his hand to silence him. "Of course not. I would never suggest any friend to become between the happiness of others, but I am convinced that there is more than Mr. Weasley that has kept you from expressing your feelings."

Harry rose slowly and walked to the window. He stared down at the lawn. Students were walking across it seemingly without a care in the world. They were talking and laughing and it was unfair in Harry's mind that he had to be burdened with this internal struggle; this fate. "You know the prophecy, Professor," he finally replied. "And you also know, as I do, that Voldemort will use any means to destroy me..." His voice had trailed away softly and Harry found great difficulty in resurrecting it. His voice sounded tinny in his own ears, not at all like himself. "I cannot tell Hermione how I feel because Voldemort could hurt her in order to hurt me. He knows about her, Professor. Even if it wasn't Hermione, I can't ever be close to anyone, not as long as Voldemort survives. Don't you understand?" he bellowed wheeling around to face Dumbledore again, his anger rising. "I could never put her in danger, not if I really love her."

Dumbledore had risen without Harry's knowledge and had been making his way to the window as well. He placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder when he spoke, "I think you are absolutely right about Voldemort. He will try to harm anyone close to you, but there is no guarantee that he will." The old man paused to allow Harry to take in his words before continuing. "Harry, do you remember what I told you when I found you gazing at your mother and father in the Mirror of Erised?"

"Yes," Harry answered. "You said that it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, but what does that got to do with anything?"

"Everything," Professor Dumbledore replied. "Harry, I still believe that, but the opposite also holds true! Do not dwell so much on life, so to speak, that you forget to dream!"

"I can't! I won't!" Harry shouted swatting away Dumbledore's arm. "I won't put her in danger! I can't expose her to Voldemort's whims!" Harry could feel himself seething. How could Dumbledore expect him to endanger Hermione just to make himself happy?

Professor Dumbledore took a step forward. "Harry, I understand how you feel, but please consider this. I beg you not to surrender your future happiness based on what might happen!"

Harry's anger had reached a boiling point, "YOU DO NOT KNOW HOW I FEEL!"

"Yes, I do," Dumbledore responded quietly and thoughtfully.

"Can I ask you something, Sir?" Harry asked sarcastically, though he did not wait for a reply. "Have you ever been married?"

The Headmaster's eyebrows raised sharply. Clearly he had been deeply surprised by the question. "Well, no," he answered.

"Then, with all due respect," Harry continued viciously, "how can you _possibly_ know how I feel?" Harry immediately regretted his outburst. Dumbledore's mouth slowly fell open. His expression was of the utmost despair and Harry felt the guilt quickly wash over him. Dumbledore did not respond right away. Instead he turned to look out the window as Harry had done and interlaced his fingers behind his back.

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. He silently berated himself for being so heartless. After all, wasn't Dumbledore just trying to help him? Harry sank back down in his vacated seat and tried to think how he could possibly rectify the situation. "Listen, Sir, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"My heart, my life, my soul...she has the key to them all," Dumbledore whispered.

"What?" Harry asked trying to sound as less insensitive as possible.

Continuing to gaze from the window Dumbledore responded, "A muggle said that. 'My heart, my life, my soul...she has the key to them all'. Funny thing really."

"I'm sorry, I still don't understand Professor," Harry implored quietly.

Dumbledore spoke so softly that Harry had to strain to hear him. "There is a woman out there that I loved..." He trailed away. It was clear to Harry that this was quite difficult for Dumbledore. "She always did hold the keys to my heart, life, and soul, and still does. It is funny now that you should deal with the same situation that began in me fifty years ago."

Harry was no closer to understanding where Dumbledore was headed, but thought it best not to interrupt. The older man was utterly lost in his memory with only an occasional whisper too quiet for Harry to hear escaping his lips. "Harry, when I was a much younger man," he began finally, "I fell in love with a wonderfully charming, young woman who had been a former student of mine. Though I was much older than her, she made me feel special. She also made it clear that the age difference meant nothing to her. Minerva..."

"..._McGonagall?_" Harry gasped flabbergasted.

"Kavanagh, actually," Dumbledore answered. "Minerva reminded me what it was to be young. However, what she gave me was much more important." The professor finally smiled again as he caught a glimpse of Harry's imploring look. "She showed me what it was to be truly in love and to be truly loved by another so much that the individuals cease to exist and the two become one."

Dumbledore returned his gaze to the open window and Harry could see the hint of regret creep onto the professor's face. "It wasn't to be, however," he said sadly.

"Why not?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"Because the day I planned to propose to Minerva in 1943, Grindelwald struck out; openly and personally. He began to murder and maim those his enemies held dear. Seeing as I was considered the wizard that would have to face Grindelwald in the end, which Grindelwald also believed, I feared for all those I loved. I feared for my brother, my students, my colleagues, but especially for my Minerva. What was I to do?" Professor Dumbledore paused as if Harry should have answered him, but continued before the boy could speak. "The day I had intended to be the happiest of my life instead became the saddest."

Believing he already knew the answer, Harry asked, "What did you do?"

"Instead of proposing...I...I told her that I did not love her," Dumbledore said calmly as a tear leaked out of his eye onto his silver beard. "She wanted to know why, of course, but I had no answer to give. The truth was I loved her more than life itself, but I also thought that I was saving her from Grindelwald. Few things are more difficult than breaking the heart of the woman you love." The Headmaster finally turned away from the window. He returned to his desk before continuing his story.

"Do you remember asking me about the memory you saw regarding me as a younger man?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Harry whispered.

"That was the day I betrayed my love to Minerva," Professor Dumbledore explained. "The moment you witnessed was right after she left me. I had never felt so terrible in all my life. Even my mother's death was not as painful because someone else had committed that atrocity. This one I did alone."

"But life went on, as it will," he said blandly. "In 1945, I finally faced Grindelwald. It was a long, hard-fought battle. Many times I thought I would fail, but one thought sustained me to the end."

"Minerva..." Harry interjected.

Dumbledore nodded. "I realized she still loved me inside my heart, if not in reality. I defeated the darkest wizard of the age because I had her love with me, strengthening me. So with Grindelwald gone, I became a hero. I received the Order of Merlin and got my face onto a Chocolate Frog card. But I would trade all the Orders of Merlin or Chocolate Frog cards to change the way things had become."

"Did you tell her how you really felt afterward? Does she know that your were just trying to protect her?" Harry asked anxiously as Fawkes fluttered down from his perch to sit on Dumbledore's knee. The wizened man absent-mindedly stroked his phoenix's beautiful red and gold plumage without speaking. "You didn't," Harry understood.

"No, I did not."

"But..._why?_" the student wondered. "If Grindelwald was gone, why not tell her?"

"Because, Harry...because I'm a coward," Dumbledore explained. Harry could not understand this. He thought Dumbledore one of the bravest men he had ever known. "I was afraid she would not forgive me for what I had done, but partly I could not forgive myself. So time went on and eventually Minerva found someone else. I was happy for her, though sad for myself. However, I knew the man she married quite well. I admired and respected him greatly and I had no doubt in my mind he loved her as much as I did."

Fawkes chirruped sadly, sensing the mood. "For twenty-five years the love of my life was joined to another. I watched from a distance still loving her, but always on the outside looking in. Eventually Minerva did forgive me, and we became dear, dear friends. Then when Samuel McGonagall died I..."

"It _is_ Professor McGonagall, she is the Minerva you loved!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered simply. "I had a new chance Harry! It was as though fate was smiling on me once more. I again found the love I had so dearly missed from her. How was I to know what was soon in store for our world?" Harry could see the professor becoming more and more visibly upset.

"Sir, you do not have to go on if you don't want to," Harry suggested.

"I know Harry, but going on is precisely what I need to do," the Headmaster responded. "I did what I swore I would never do again. I broke her heart for a second time. It was a cruel twist of irony that when our love developed anew, another evil wizard destroyed my resolve. I once more told her I did not love her under the pretext that I was protecting her from this new threat."

"Voldemort," Harry assumed. Dumbledore only nodded. Some moments passed before either spoke again.

"I came to realize what a fool I was and I promised myself that I would never again hurt those I love, or sacrifice my happiness based on what might happen. I came to comprehend that I had hurt her far worse than any Grindelwald or Voldemort ever could have. Not only once, but twice," Professor Dumbledore proclaimed.

"So you confessed to her then?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, "Once a coward, always a coward I guess. I could not tell her because even though I promised myself to stay honest with those I loved, I no longer trusted myself. I felt the only way to truly protect her was to stay away, maybe friendship, but nothing more. After all, I never broke her heart as a friend."

Dumbledore stared at his hands before speaking again. "You see Harry? I do understand you. Please, please do not give up on your happiness. Do not become the fool that I became," he begged.

Harry felt his heart ache with understanding. "I know, Professor, but I cannot do anything just yet that might jeopardize her happiness with Ron. If Ron is who she is supposed to be with then I will be happy for her."

Harry left the Headmaster's office with a new understanding of the man he so admired. Harry knew Dumbledore was right, but he also knew he could not tell Hermione as long as she and Ron were so happy together. Maybe one day he could. One day. Maybe.

Several days later it became clear to Harry how oblivious he had been in his five and a half years at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's affections for McGonagall were so obvious. He noticed him gazing at her when he thought no one was looking, he would sometimes carry her books for her, but the most telling evidence would be how he lit up when she walked into the room. Harry smiled inwardly. Hadn't Dumbledore mentioned how someone looked when the one they loved was around? He probably had noticed these things before, but had dismissed them as acts of friendship and nothing more.

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione's relationship had become a more public matter, and though he ached with regret, Harry did remain truly happy for his friends. Lavender and Parvati always seemed to dissolve into those girlish giggles Harry despised so much when his two friends were around. However, it was Neville that made him realize that he had not only been blind when it came to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, but Ron and Hermione as well.

"I always wondered when they would get together," Neville stated. "They were always ogling after each other for years. He's a lucky guy though, Ron is. Isn't he?"

"Yes," Harry replied, "very lucky."

* * *

"My heart, my life, my soul...she has the key to them all." 

-unknown


	6. Secrets

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Okay, this chapter is a lot shorter than the last which, depending on your point of view, may or may not be a good thing. The last two chapters or so I have been getting a lot of questions and comments regarding certain things that have been happening. So I think I'll just clear them up quickly:

1. Some of you have asked what the Gryffindor password means. "Narro Veritas" is Latin meaning "I speak truth," though I wouldn't doubt if there are some Latin purists out there tearing their hair out over my grammar. But somehow I thought this seemed appropriate.

2. This one surprised me a bit. It is absolutely NOT Minerva's fault that Petunia mistreated Harry for all those years. Yes, she had a big turn around after receiving Lily's letter, but just remember what Professor Dumbledore says in _Chamber of Secrets_, "It is our choices who define who we truly are..." I agree with this wholeheartedly. Minerva made a choice not to give Petunia the letter, Petunia made the choice to act so foul. She could have had the letter all along and still abused Harry, I do not think these two events really hinge on one another. That was certainly not my intention anyway.

3. Just a thought on the relationship bit...A lot of you seem to think that I am a Harry/Hermione shipper. Logical assumption, but not really the case. After all, I put her together with Ron didn't I? To be honest, in the series I actually think that Hermione will end up with Ron, though I think she would be a better match with Harry. In truth I really enjoy all the relationship arguments, but I don't have a favorite...yet.

4. Will there be an epic battle with Voldemort at the end? All I'll say to this is: Maaaaybeeee.

5. And lastly, will Harry and Dumbledore begin healing from their heartaches? Well, unfortunately, there are more of those in store.

Just one more thing before we jump into the next chapter. I need to give a nod to all of my latest reviewers. Many thanks this time around to Liat1989, mugglemin, BlindJedi, Lou. McGonagall, QuillofMinerva, EJC, duj, and Neoma!

**Chapter Six: Secrets**

A few weeks later Harry, Ron, and Hermione were finishing up Care of Magical Creatures class by helping Hagrid corral the nogtails they had been studying. Hagrid, feeling quite pleased with his sixth years, was beaming.

"Tha' was a good class! I hope yeh learned a lot," he stated boisterously.

"Of course we did, Hagrid!" Ron exclaimed sheepishly, his eyes twinkling in Hermione's direction.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. He smiled even more when Hagrid looked more pleased by his young friends' assurances. However, Harry soon became distracted by a glimmer of movement down by the lake at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry turned to look toward the water's edge hoping he could see what had caught his attention. He could only just make it out but he was convinced that it was...

"Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid replied finishing Harry's thought. "I've seen him walking 'round the lake a lot lately."

"Hagrid, Professor Dumbledore doesn't usually wander around the grounds does he?" Harry asked.

"On'y when he's worried about summat or has a lot on his mind," the giant man answered. "Such a good man, Dumbledore. Pity he's feelin' troubled. Always there fer ev'ryone else, wish more were there fer him."

"Yes," Harry said absent-mindedly.

Having left Hagrid, the three friends were making there way back to the castle for lunch before Double Transfiguration. Before Harry knew it they were already sitting down at the long house table in the Great Hall. Harry automatically glanced up at the head table to see Professor McGonagall and other teachers, but Professor Dumbledore was notably absent. Hermione had apparently noticed this as well.

"I wonder where Professor Dumbledore is?" she pondered.

"He's down by the lake," Harry thought aloud.

"What?" Ron declared, perhaps louder than he had intended as he leaned closer to Harry before he continued. "How do you know?"

"I saw him. He was walking around the edge of the lake at the end of Care of Magical Creatures," Harry responded. Ron seemed perfectly happy with this response, but Hermione looked to Harry in question. Apparently she too had suspected that Dumbledore usually didn't peruse the grounds outside the castle, and found this information odd. Harry just raised his eyebrows in answer to her silent inquiry, but he had the suspicion he knew exactly why the Headmaster was so detached.

With lunch over, the trio picked up their bags and made there way out of the Great Hall. "We'd better hurry," Hermione scolded, "or we'll be late for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall promised we'd be doing something really exciting today!"

"You think turning rocks into marbles would be _absolutely enthralling_," Ron teased mimicking her voice perfectly. Hermione was not amused, but rather shot daggers at him. Trying to rectify his status with his girlfriend, Ron recovered quickly, "Oh, relax, beautiful. McGonagall hasn't even left the head table yet."

Harry was entirely amused by Ron and Hermione's exchange even if Hermione hadn't been. The smirk was quickly wiped off his face, however, when they found Malfoy and his cronies in the Entrance Hall. Malfoy must have just said something entirely entertaining because the crowd of Slytherins were all laughing uproariously, which to Harry was never a good thing.

"Oh, look," Malfoy drawled. "here's Dumbledore's golden boy."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron glared narrowing his eyes to an astonishing level.

"Not very nice, Weasley," Malfoy smirked. Crabbe and Goyle just guffawed stupidly. "What's with Dumbledore anyway?" Harry knew he was trying to provoke him, however, it didn't make the arrogance of Malfoy any easier to tolerate. "I see he wasn't at lunch. The old fool's probably so senile now that he can't even remember what time it is. Arggghhhhhh!"

Harry could not hold back any longer. He sprang upon Malfoy before Ron and Hermione could stop him. Crabbe and Goyle must have been as equally surprised by Harry's attack as they simply stood staring at their leader being beaten with their mouths agape. It was not until a strong hand seized Harry by the neck and dragged him upwards that Harry was prevented from continuing his assault. He assumed that either Crabbe or Goyle had finally snapped out of their stupor and Harry whirled around to intensify his fight on whoever was coming between his fist and Malfoy's face. He only just stopped himself from swinging at this new obstacle before he realized it was Professor McGonagall. She was looking stunned that Harry had almost hit her, but Ron and Hermione looked completely horrified. Harry felt sure he knew what they were thinking for it was also in his mind. _This is it, I'm going to be expelled. I almost punched my Head of House for crying out loud._

It took a few moments for McGonagall to respond. Malfoy was being helped up by the other Slytherins who were coming far too late to his aid. "Ex-explain yourself!" Professor McGonagall spat. She was more angry than Harry had ever seen her. He also knew she had reason to be. He did not answer her, he was too afraid to bring up what Malfoy had said about Dumbledore in McGonagall's presence. He worried that he might let something Dumbledore had shared slip. Harry did not want to take the risk of embarrassing Dumbledore or McGonagall in the presence of the murderous looking Slytherins.

"Very well, Potter," McGonagall continued still seething. "You will have a week's worth of detentions with me starting Friday. What have I said about controlling your temper? Seeing as that makes no difference I am also taking fifty points from Gryffindor."

"But Professor!" Ron stammered looking mutinous. "Malfoy was just-" Ron quickly shut his mouth once Hermione noticed Harry's widened eyes and panicked expression and elbowed Ron in the ribs. McGonagall was too busy glaring from student to student to notice this, but it had the desired effect.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked sounding exasperated.

"Um, nothing," he finished lamely. Malfoy looked as if Christmas had come early.

"Now get to class," the professor shouted surveying all the students milling around the Entrance Hall hoping to overhear the situation. "All of you!" The students scattered and with that, the Gryffindor head whirled around on her heel and stormed upstairs.

"That McGonagall!" Ron raged minutes later. "A week's worth of detentions _and_ fifty points? What's she playing at? Malfoy needs a good beating once in a while." Harry smiled at Ron's indignation on his behalf, but was secretly relieved. He would have much rather faced the detentions with an enraged McGonagall than to have her discover anything about what Malfoy had said.

"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione broke in, "Harry really shouldn't be fighting. He almost hit Professor McGonagall too, remember?" It was Ron's turn to shoot the daggers.

"Are you defending Malfoy after what he said?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"Of course not!" Hermione shot in her defense. "But Harry, why didn't you tell Professor McGonagall what Malfoy said?"

Harry looked up at his friends at last. "I just couldn't, and I can't tell you either," he said seeing the confusion on their faces. He quickly turned and entered the Transfiguration classroom before they could offer a rebuttal.

Transfiguration had proved to be a long class that day indeed. Harry was feeling intensely relieved when the bell finally rang announcing the end of classes for the day. But before he could get away McGonagall's stern voice caught him.

"Potter, you will stay a few minutes," she announced. Ron and Hermione were floating by the door hoping to stay for their friend. "Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, carry on," McGonagall stated harshly. Ron's eyes narrowed again but followed orders as Hermione dragged him out the door.

"Sit down Potter."

"Yes, Professor," Harry stated feeling dejected. He dropped into the desk he had shared with Neville a few moments ago.

"Now, Potter," McGonagall began as she half sat, half leaned upon the desk before him, "now will you tell me what happened before with Malfoy in the Entrance Hall?"

"I can't." It was all Harry could muster.

Professor McGonagall sighed and closed her eyes. "Potter...Harry," she continued more softly. "Harry, I fear for you if you proceed to allow young Mr. Malfoy to get to you. Professor Dumbledore and I can only protect you so much. If the school governors hear of your continual fighting with Mr. Malfoy they may decide to expel you, and if that happens, there may be little we can do about it." She paused to allow him to reflect for a few minutes.

"Harry, I want you to listen to me very carefully," she said and Harry looked up to meet her eyes at last. "I must ask you to please, please control – your – temper."

"I promise," he said weakly.

"Very well," McGonagall stated apparently satisfied. She stood and walked behind her desk. "You will be serving you detentions starting Friday. Report to me in my office at 5:00p.m., understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very good. Oh, and Potter?" the Professor remarked with her usual air of sternness. Harry turned to face her in the doorway. "I will hold you to your promise." Harry nodded and left.

* * *

As five o'clock approached Friday evening Harry found that he was certainly not dreading it. After dinner he rose from the house table to make his leave for Professor McGonagall's office. Hermione and Ron waved their friend off. When Harry reached the office he knocked on the mahogany door and waited.

"Come in Potter," came McGonagall's stern but calm voice. Harry entered the office and smiled weakly at his Head of House.

"I'm sorry about fighting Professor McGonagall..." he began softly.

"Just as long as you keep your word to me all will be forgiven," she stated smiling gently, his sincerity had obviously touched her.

"What will I be doing?" Harry inquired feeling somewhat better.

"Lines," the professor responded simply. "You may sit."

Harry turned to the desk she had indicated and stopped dead in his tracks. Quickly a terrible, high, girlish voice filled his head.

_Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made an impression yet.  
Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?  
Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?_

Harry felt two hands on his shoulders. He snapped out of his reverie to realize that he must have stumbled backward to lean on the door frame for support. Sweat was beading on his forehead and Professor McGonagall was peering into his face quite concerned.

"What is it Potter?" she asked her voice echoing the worry in her expression. He looked toward the desk that revealed a piece of parchment and a black quill. McGonagall followed his gaze and her own rested upon the quill. "What?" she asked again, but her eyes quickly widened with comprehension before Harry could answer. She stepped backward from him covering her mouth with her hands. Harry felt feverish and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. He hadn't realized how much the memory of detention with Umbridge had stayed with him, or bothered him.

"She didn't!" McGonagall gasped finally. Harry only nodded. His teacher fell to her knees at his side. "She had a Blood Quill?" Again Harry only nodded. He could not believe that McGonagall would possess one. Sensing this thought of betrayal in his eyes, McGonagall covered her face in her hands again. "Harry," she whispered, "This is _not_ a Blood Quill." He looked at her uncertainly. "Here," the professor said reassuringly. She grabbed the parchment and quill from the desk and scribbled something quickly. Indeed, no wound opened on the back of her hand and she took great care in demonstrating so. Harry sighed relieved.

"Oh, dear Harry," she said pulling him into a surprising hug. "The quill was black because I had an ink bottle break in my desk drawer and a lot of my quills became dyed. Rather than throw them all away, I decided to use them for detentions." She pulled him away from her and wiped the hair from his face tenderly. "I think you were punished enough last year to cover several detentions. Consider mine fulfilled." McGonagall pulled him back to her in another embrace and it is then that Harry saw what McGonagall had scribbled on the parchment earlier.

_I would never hurt you, Harry._

"I know you wouldn't," he said quietly.

"What?" Professor McGonagall asked leaning away from him again. Noting that Harry was making no attempt to rise, she had settled herself onto the floor as well. Harry inclined his head to the parchment indicating he had read her message. The professor stared at the paper as though mesmerized by it. She spoke once more, but her attention remained transfixed on the piece of parchment. "Harry, why did you never say anything about what Umbridge did to you? Did she harm you in other ways?" she added abruptly evidently horror-struck. Harry could only imagine what terrors were gracing her thoughts.

"It was more about humiliation for Umbridge," Harry explained. He also noticed that McGonagall was now holding his hand. She was gently stroking it with her thumb. "Yet, she did grab me by the hair and wrenched my neck back as far as it would go."

"When did this happen?" McGonagall whispered.

"When I broke into her office to try and contact..." Harry broke off feeling an uncomfortable lump rise in his throat.

"Sirius."

"Yes," Harry continued, thankful he did not have to say his godfather's name.

"Anything else?" McGonagall prodded.

"Well, she did threaten to use the Cruciatus Curse on me, but Hermione stopped her before she could," the young man explained. For the next three hours Harry allowed the burdens within him to spill out to Professor McGonagall. He told her about everything that happened with Umbridge, and all the things he was feeling regarding the death of his godfather.

McGonagall closed her eyes and covered her face with her free hand. "Harry," she said finally. "I am sorry I was not there for you more last year." Was it guilt he heard in her voice?

"Professor," Harry interrupted soothingly, "don't blame yourself for this. That's why I never told you about what was going on."

"What do you mean?" the professor inquired.

"I was afraid Umbridge would find some way to get rid of you if you stood up to her," he replied. "We needed you here. After Professor Dumbledore had gone, I knew I could handle what she did to me in the time being if it meant the students had the ability to fall back on your strength if needed."

"Even so, I don't feel very strong right now," McGonagall stated sadly. "In fact, I feel I failed you all."

"Professor McGonagall," Harry said shaking his head, "you were a source of strength for us in so many ways, especially for me. You didn't let her give you any crap." Harry paused and he noticed McGonagall lighten up slightly. "The way you backed me in our Career Advice session meant a lot to me. More than I can ever say. What about going completely out numbered to defend Hagrid?"

"You know about that?" the professor interjected surprised.

"Of course," Harry hesitated a moment, "we..er...well, we witnessed it from atop the astronomy tower during our OWL's."

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," Professor McGonagall offered apologetically.

"Don't be, it was one of the bravest things I've ever seen," Harry said firmly.

"It could not have been easy to see," she continued.

Harry reached out and put his hand on her arm. This move made her look up again and their eyes met. "Don't be," Harry repeated.

The tension in the office lifted finally. Neither spoke for awhile lost in his or her own thoughts. McGonagall peered into Harry's eyes for a few moments. "Are you sure you are alright Harry? Can you stand?"

"Yes," he replied, "I'm okay now." The professor assisted Harry to his feet and clutched his arm for support should the need arise. "Professor, I know you said I didn't need to continue my detentions, but I think I should just so Malfoy can't have an excuse to say you were showing favoritism."

"Well, if you are sure that's what you want to do," McGonagall offered.

"I am," Harry answered with a nod. "Besides, it was nice to get to talk to you about...about some things that have been bothering me." Harry's face fell as his own remark made him think of Sirius once more.

"Harry, you can always talk to me if you want. I just wish I could have been there for you at the end of last year," she replied consolingly squeezing his arm. "Well, you had better be off to bed. Have a good evening." Her demeanor stiffened slightly, returning to the student-teacher relationship instead of the much more personal interlude they had just shared.

As Harry left he glanced over his shoulder at his professor. She had returned to her desk and Harry saw just in time Professor McGonagall remove a handful of black quills from her desk drawer and drop them into the trash bin.

* * *

_Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made an impression yet.  
Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?  
Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?_

-excerpts from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, Chapter 13, "Detention with Dolores", pp. 268, 275.


	7. Truth Be Told

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** I am not sure what happened with the site last night, but I know most, if not all of you, did not receive the Author Alert for chapter six. **So make sure you read chapter six before you go on, or you will be really confused! **And since I only had one new review since my last post just let me send out a big thank you to Joelpup62 and all of my wonderful readers who do not send reviews. I still appreciate everyone who reads my work!

**Chapter Seven: Truth Be Told**

The next day was Saturday and Harry allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in. When he could no longer ignore the shouts and laughter of his fellow students from either the common room or out on the grounds, Harry arose and quickly dressed. He knew it was late morning, but thought he might try to make the tail end of breakfast. Skipping down the dormitory steps Harry arrived in the common room where Ron and Hermione were sitting in their usual spot by the fireplace. The fire had extinguished from the night before, but Harry supposed his friends' chosen lounge was more out of habit than anything.

"Harry!" Hermione announced cheerfully seeing him at last.

"Hey, mate," Ron also volunteered. "McGonagall must have really kept you at it, I didn't hear you come back." Harry just shrugged. He was not sure why, but he did not feel much in the mood to discuss the previous night.

"I'm going to run down to the Great Hall to see if I can't make the end of breakfast," he replied instead. "See you later?" His friends nodded and Harry crawled out of the portrait hole.

The Great Hall was almost completely empty when he reached it. Of the students still remaining, few were actually eating. Most had long finished breakfast and were using the hall to chat with their friends from other houses. As Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table he noticed Professor Dumbledore walk past the huge double doors. Curiosity proved too strong for Harry. He quickly wrapped a few pieces of toast in a napkin and sneaked out into the Entrance Hall just in time to see his wizened, old professor exiting the front oak doors.

Harry was not sure why he felt the need to check up on Professor Dumbledore, so to speak, but he did not want the Headmaster to realize he was following him either. So, leaving the castle Harry walked toward Hagrid's cabin under the pretext to visit his giant friend. As he walked Harry alternatively munched on his toast and threw sideways glances to see where Dumbledore was headed. A sinking feeling entered Harry's stomach when he saw Professor Dumbledore making his way once again toward the lake, though this did not surprise him much.

Harry snapped out of his contemplation when he suddenly found himself already at Hagrid's front door. When he knocked Fang began to bark excitedly and must have been trying to make a mad dash for the door as Harry could hear furniture falling over with a crash.

"Calm down yeh silly creature," Hagrid scolded. Harry chuckled to himself picturing Hagrid trying to restrain the boar hound. The door opened to reveal a smiling Hagrid.

"Hi, Hagrid," Harry greeted.

"I wondered if yeh would be comin' down today!" Hagrid exclaimed happily. "Where's Ron and Hermione?" he asked peering around as though they may have been hiding around the corner.

"They're up at the castle," Harry explained.

"Ah," Hagrid understood. "Well, no use not enjoyin' yer visit! How 'bout a cuppa tea while yer here?"

"Sure," Harry responded.

"So, what brings yeh to see me?" Hagrid asked busying himself making the tea.

"Oh, just thought I'd come say hello," Harry lied. "I haven't been down that much this year, you know." Harry looked at his shoes for a minute. Hagrid seemed to sense that something was troubling his young friend because he had walked over and placed an over-sized hand on Harry's shoulder.

"What's troublin' yeh, Harry?" he asked and Harry could hear the hint of concern in his voice.

"Hagrid," he spoke honestly, "how long has Professor Dumbledore been taking his walks around the lake?"

Hagrid looked to the ceiling of his cabin and scratched his chin. "Oh, 'bout four or five weeks I'd say," he replied. His expression fell as he thought about the man he admired so. "I haven't seen him this troubled fer a long time," Hagrid added. "On'y wish I knew what was botherin' him so I could maybe help. Not that Professor Dumbledore is one to be askin' fer help. He'll do anythin' for others, but won't look fer it from those who care 'bout him. Very independent he is."

A profound revelation began to formulate in Harry's mind and he knew he must act upon it. He began to understand that Dumbledore's current state of dismay must have started that fateful day in the Headmaster's office. So much needless worry and regret emanated from the people around him and Harry knew that he could at least nudge a few people in the right direction.

Besides catching up on homework and quidditch practice, Harry spent the remainder of the weekend trying to concoct a plan that he hoped would alleviate Professor Dumbledore's pain. Though she never stated it, Harry had a sneaky suspicion that perhaps Professor McGonagall shared some of those feelings left over from long ago. Harry decided his best chance would lie with her. The trouble was coming up with a plan that was not openly obvious. He had to remain as subtle as possible, or he may risk embarrassing all of the parties involved. All the while Dumbledore could be found lake side. So, it was with a heavy heart that Harry arrived at "detention" with McGonagall on Monday evening.

"Good evening," Professor McGonagall stated when Harry entered her office.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry responded, though he sensed that she seemed slightly distant tonight. He was unsure as to whether it was how he left her last Friday or if there were new thoughts plaguing her. _Maybe it's both,_ Harry thought.

"Harry, since you are not exactly in detention with me, perhaps it would be best if you used this as an opportunity to complete your assignments," McGonagall explained. "Does that suit you?"

"Actually, that'd be great," Harry replied. "I was kind of distracted over the weekend." So Harry set about working upon his mountain of homework. Once he completed an essay for Snape, Harry practiced the Conjuring Charm Professor Flitwick had assigned. This proved not an easy task for Harry. Every time he attempted it, he would conjure his desired item, but it never came out quite right. Around the tenth time his daisies were conjured with paper clips instead of petals, Professor McGonagall stepped forward.

"Do you need assistance, Potter?" she asked.

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed exasperated. "I can't get anything to work out right!"

"It's all right, Harry," McGonagall stated comfortingly. "You already admitted to being distracted. Distraction will make it extremely difficult to achieve the desired effect." She moved around to the other side of him and Harry's eyes followed her as she walked. "Now, close your eyes," the professor commanded softly. Harry peered at her skeptically. "Trust me," Professor McGonagall encouraged. She placed a hand over his eyes to stimulate their closing. As she pulled her hand away Harry noticed the faint scent of cinnamon. He smiled to himself as McGonagall proceeded. "Picture the daisies you wish to conjure in your mind. Do not just see, know what color they are. How many are there? How big are they? Ask yourself everything you can about them until you sense that they are real and not just in your brain. Are they real to you, Harry?"

Harry slowly opened his eyes. "They are," he grinned.

"Very well, try again," Professor McGonagall prodded.

Harry turned to look straight ahead, clasping his wand tightly. He raised it before him and in a strong, clear voice, "Creo daisies!" Before him appeared a bouquet of a dozen beautifully white daisies. "I did it!" Harry exclaimed. Professor McGonagall was beaming.

"Well done!" She exclaimed.

"Here," Harry said, "you have these." He handed the daisies to his Transfiguration professor gratefully. She blushed slightly and pulled them to her nose when she started to chuckle softly. "What?" Harry asked sheepishly.

"They smell like cinnamon," McGonagall replied smiling.

"I suppose that's because I could smell cinnamon from you when you covered my eyes," Harry explained taking his turn to blush. This answer made Professor McGonagall smile even more broadly and Harry wondered why she did not do it more often.

"Here," he said taking the flowers from her again. Her eyes addressed him questioningly. "Creo vase!" Harry shouted with a flick of his wand. A simple, but beautiful crystal vase appeared out of thin air. He placed the daisies in it and handed it over to McGonagall.

"Thank you, Harry," she breathed. "I think you had better go for the night, or I doubt my blush shall subside by morning."

And so detentions with Professor McGonagall went over the week. He continued to work on homework, using McGonagall for a resource when he needed. However, following Wednesday night's detention he still had not figured out how to subtlely express to her Dumbledore's feelings. Harry awoke Thursday morning feeling subdued. Hermione and Ron accompanied him to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Harry, why have you been so quiet these last few days?" Hermione asked finally.

"I don't know," Harry lied. "Just tired I guess."

"What has McGonagall been making you do all night this past week?" Ron queried suspiciously. "You come back to the tower late every night, and the next day you seem dog-tired."

"Actually, detention's been fine," Harry replied. "I've just been doing homework." Ron did not seem convinced by this response, but did not say anything. They reached the long house table and sat down. Neville and Ginny were talking animatedly about something and glanced up startled when the trio arrived.

"What are you two gawking at?" Ron blurted. Before either Gryffindor could answer, however, Hermione gasped and covered her mouth.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Ron chastised again. Luna was rushing over to them from the Ravenclaw table and the sight of hundreds of turned heads filled Harry with a sense of foreboding.

"Can you believe it?" Luna asked, trying to catch her breath.

"Will someone please tell me for the love of God what is going on!" Ron yelled. He was red with anger at being kept in the dark.

"Oh, relax, Ron!" Hermione scolded. She rolled her eyes and pushed her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that had apparently been delivered toward he and Harry. The headline screamed at them and Harry quickly understood why so many in the hall were stunned.

**Former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister  
Sentenced to Twenty Years in Azkaban**

_Dolores Jane Umbridge; former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, former Hogwarts High Inquisitor, and temporary Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; was sentenced to a term of twenty years in Azkaban Prison Wednesday night for crimes she committed while in her tenure at the school. An anonymous source alleged that Ms. Umbridge committed acts of abuse against students, abused her power as a professor, physically attacked students and colleagues, authorized students to assault classmates, and threatened the use of the Cruciatus Curse._

_Looking into the allegations, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, headed by Madame Amelia Bones, found corroborating evidence based on testimony of four Aurors. Nathaniel Dawlish, 47, testified that, "Madame Umbridge ordered an attack on Rubeus Hagrid on the night of June 5th of the previous year. Likewise, it was also ordered by Madame Umbridge to stun any individual without warning who would attempt to stop us from taking Hagrid into custody. Of course, it is then that Professor McGonagall did indeed make such an attempt. It is with regret that myself, and the other Aurors, acted on this order." When asked if either Rubeus Hagrid or Minerva McGonagall had committed any crimes to warrant such an attack Dawlish denied this claim._

_Based upon the evidence Umbridge was taken into custody for questioning. The interrogation, administered under Veritaserum, confirmed the allegations. Umbridge admitted to using a Blood Quill on several students, intentionally planning to harm Hagrid and McGonagall, tormenting students, and authorizing physical actions toward students. Umbridge's confession lasted three hours as the list of transgressions compounded._

_The Ministry of Magic issued a statement apologizing for the behavior of its former employee. The Ministry also explained a plan of restitution to those individuals who suffered under than hands of Umbridge _(A list of those receiving restitution and the abuses suffered can be found on page twelve).

_Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and his staff declined to comment Wednesday night._

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione with mouth open in shock. Harry grabbed the paper from Ron and hurriedly flipped to page twelve. He was horrified to think that Umbridge had abused so many as to warrant a three hour confession. When Harry reached page twelve he was completely taken aback by what he saw. The entire page was devoted to the list of individuals who had suffered at the hands of Umbridge. It took four complete columns to list everyone. Most were listed as "harassed", but many others were abused physically as Harry had been. Harry scanned over the list occasionally stopping at a name to read more carefully.

Abbott, Hannah – harassed  
Bell, Katie – harassed  
Bones, Susan – harassed  
Boot, Terry – harassed  
Brown, Lavender – harassed  
Chang, Cho – harassed  
Corner, Michael – harassed  
Creevey, Colin – harassed  
Creevey, Dennis - harassed  
Dumbledore, Albus – harassed, attempted assault  
Edgecomb, Marietta – harassed, physically assaulted  
Finch-Fletchley, Justin – harassed  
Finnigan, Seamus – harassed  
Flitwick, Filius – harassed  
Goldstein, Anthony – harassed  
Granger, Hermione – harassed, physically assaulted  
Hagrid, Rubeus – harassed, physically assaulted, slandered  
Johnson, Angelina – harassed  
Jordan, Lee – harassed, forced to use a Blood Quill  
Longbottom, Neville – harassed, physically assaulted  
Lovegood, Luna – harassed, physically assaulted  
McGonagall, Minerva – harassed, physically assaulted, attempted grave injury  
MacMillan, Ernie – harassed  
Patil, Padma – harassed  
Patil, Parvati – harassed  
Pince, Irma – harassed  
Pomfrey, Poppy – harassed  
Potter, Harry – harassed, physically assaulted, attempted use of Cruciatus Curse, forced to use a Blood Quill, illegal use of Veritaserum, slander, unjustified quidditch ban  
Sinistra, Diana – harassed  
Smith, Zacharias – harassed  
Snape, Severus – harassed  
Spinnet, Alicia – harassed  
Sprout, Pamona – harassed  
Thomas, Dean – harassed  
Trelawney, Sybill – harassed, mentally assaulted  
Vector, Bina – harassed  
Weasley, Fred – harassed, unjustified quidditch ban, attempted assault  
Weasley, George – harassed, unjustified quidditch ban, attempted assault  
Weasley, Ginevra - harassed, physically assaulted  
Weasley, Ronald – harassed, physically assaulted

"She harassed the entire D.A.," Ron said appalled.

"I suppose Umbridge kept a close eye on everyone who was on that list she found in the Room of Requirement. She would have been ecstatic to expel everyone on that list," Harry explained.

"I can't believe this," Hermione wept. Ron put a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulder. "I can't believe all the stuff she did to everyone."

"What do they mean by 'restitution?'" Neville chimed in.

"I suppose they are going to pay us," Harry shrugged.

"Don't get me wrong," Ron seethed, "I could use the money. But it was ministry fools who forced her on us in the first place!" Many heads nodded in agreement at this.

"Why is the ministry acting on this now though?" Ginny asked. "I mean, it's months after the fact. Seems strange, doesn't it?"

"It says that they were tipped off anonymously," Hermione relayed perusing the article again. "But who?"

Harry shot a glance at the head table. All the professors were huddled together, and Harry surmised they too were discussing what had just transpired. Professor McGonagall looked up for a moment. Their eyes met and Harry knew at once it must have been her. He did not share his suspicions with his fellow students, however. He knew McGonagall felt guilty about her inability to act the previous year. He supposed this was how she could make sure justice was rendered.

Umbridge's fate had an overwhelming effect on the school. The teachers had decided that it was best to cancel classes for the day. Harry was glad that everything that had occurred was now out in the open. He knew those who had been tormented no longer feared discussing what happened to them. As Hermione, Ron, and Harry walked down to see Hagrid that afternoon it was not unusual to see clusters of students sniffling or comforting one another. The atmosphere was awkward, but Harry could feel the tension releasing from the students. Whatever Umbridge had done to them, they had not been alone. Now the school could heal and go forward.

As five o'clock approached that evening Harry became increasingly nervous. It would be his last detention with Professor McGonagall and he had failed in his quest to figure out how to tell her of Professor Dumbledore's feelings. Harry grabbed his bag for detention and noticed how much lighter it seemed. Not only because of a day's worth less homework, but also doing homework with McGonagall made it very easy to stick to the task at hand. When Harry reached the Transfiguration office he knocked softly before entering.

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said looking up at him surprised. "I must confess I thought you would not come tonight."

"Well, it's my last detention so I thought I'd get it out of the way, you know?" Harry explained.

Professor McGonagall smiled weakly. "I told you that you did not need to serve them anymore."

"Yeah, about that," Harry started, "can you confess something else to me?" McGonagall did not respond, but peered at him quizzically. "You informed the ministry of what happened here last year, you are the anonymous source, aren't you?"

McGonagall stood from her desk and approached Harry. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Harry," she began, "after what you told me Friday I could no longer look the other way as if last year was merely an unfortunate incident. Dolores Umbridge committed many wrongs, severe wrongs, against those whom it was her responsibility to protect. No one knows you were involved in my decision to act. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, and I hope you can forgive-"

"Professor," Harry interrupted, "are you under the impression I am upset with you?"

"Well," Professor McGonagall stammered, "I suppose I am."

Harry waved her off, "Professor, I am relieved at what you did. Surely you noticed the students have begun to talk about what they suffered? No one is bottling it inside any longer and we have you to thank for that. I know that I can go forward without feeling alone or isolated. You may think that you betrayed my trust, but in this case, you set me free."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," she swallowed, her eyes shining with tears. "I am glad for you." She paused a minute trying to regain her composure. She straightened up and blinked the tears from her eyes before addressing Harry once more. "Now Harry, I want you to have a work free evening. Is that understood?"

Harry grinned, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good," Professor McGonagall said. She grabbed Harry by the shoulders, turned him around, and softly pushed him toward the door. "Now get out of here."

Harry started to leave the office when a sudden catch in his chest compelled him to pause in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder at his professor who had returned to her desk and was apparently scanning over students' homework. He understood why Dumbledore had always felt the way he had for her. Later he could not conceive what made him speak, but the truth inside him fought its way to the surface and escaped his lips.

"He loves you," Harry stated simply, but softly. "He always has. He thought he was protecting you."

Professor McGonagall was staring at him looking utterly shocked. "_What?_" she gasped.

"He loves you," he repeated and slipped out the door before McGonagall could respond.


	8. Revelations

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Wow, you are all so fabulous! Your reviews are almost as rewarding as writing the story! Thank you, thank you to everyone, but most specifically to Aurinko, BlindJedi, Lou. McGonagall, Quill of Minerva, Nightwing 509, and Joelpup62! I also have a favor to ask...can someone let me know if they are now receiving their Author Alert messages? Because I am still not getting mine! Anyway, enjoy this next installment!

**Chapter Eight: Revelations**

The upcoming quidditch match with Slytherin was beginning to play heavily on Harry's mind. Only one week remained before the Gryffindors would be facing their biggest foe. The Saturday after Harry's last detention was spent practicing. The whole team felt infused with an intense desire not only to win the next weekend, but to win handily. Each member of the Gryffindor team wanted to wipe the incessant smirk from Malfoy's face once and for all. The time for Slytherin's arrogance on the quidditch pitch was at an end. By and large, Slytherin may own better brooms, but it was the Gryffindors who owned the talent.

The Quidditch Cup was in the bag for Gryffindor again this year. They had already easily beaten Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff earlier in the season. Though Slytherin had done the same, Gryffindor's margin of victory had been much larger. So much was the spread that Gryffindor would have to lose by over three hundred points to lose the cup. The odds of this were extremely small. Gryffindor's team was simply too good.

The team practiced every night. Harry and Ron, as team captains, pushed his Gryffindors without overwhelming them as Oliver and Angelina had sometimes done. He was feeling more and more confident with each practice, but every night his feelings of content were dashed. Each evening as he and Ron slumped back up to the castle. It had become Harry's habit to scan the edge of the lake whenever it would be within view. And sure enough, Dumbledore was almost always there. The thought gave him an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. It had been a full week since Harry had given Professor McGonagall what he thought was a nudge in the right direction. Yet, day by day, Professor Dumbledore continued his walks around the lake. McGonagall seemed to be avoiding him. _At least she must be thinking about it,_ Harry thought.

The morning of the big match arrived. Harry awoke early, but had no desire to go back to sleep. He arose and dressed quickly. Ron was still sleeping soundly, though he was half hanging off his bed. Neville, Dean, and Seamus were also still asleep as evident by their muffled snores emitting from their blankets. Harry saw no reason to wake Ron and descended the stairs to the common room. He went to his usual spot by the fireplace and sat down. The fire was not completely extinguished, but it was little more than glowing embers with an occasional trickle of flame.

Harry rested his hands upon the arms of the chair and it is then that he noticed a bit of parchment stuffed halfway under the chair cushion. Curious, Harry took out the parchment to see who it belonged to. It looked to be a note that had been passed back and forth between to people who wanted to have a conversation without being overheard. Harry quickly recognized Hermione's perfect, loopy handwriting and Ron's untidy scrawl. He went to stuff it back under the cushion, but stopped when he noticed his name in one of the first few lines. He had not wanted to read it or invade their privacy, but the temptation was overwhelming. Had they been talking about him?

_Why do you think Harry's been so distant lately? _Hermione's writing said.  
_I don't know, _Ron had scribbled in return. _He seems preoccupied though.  
Ron, I think it might have something to do with us, or Dumbledore, or both.  
What do you mean? _Ron had asked._ He said he was really happy for us.  
I know,_ Hermione had continued. _But I think there is something he isn't telling us either._

At that moment Harry heard footsteps stomping down the stairs from the dormitory. He quickly shoved the parchment into the chair once more. He was not entirely surprised when it was Ron who shuffled into view.

"Good morning, Ron," Harry said sounding falsely cheery. Ron eyed him suspiciously, but rather than harden, his expression softened to that of worry or concern.

"Harry," Ron began, "what is going on with you, mate?"

"Ron," Harry stated trying to make it sound as though his friend was imagining things. "I'm perfectly fine."

Ron shook his head and sat down on the ottoman in front Harry's chair. "Harry, we have been friends for almost six years. I have known you since you were the awkward eleven year old in baggy clothes until now when you are the unfairly handsome, popular, talented sixteen year old." Ron paused for a moment allowing Harry to chuckle lightly. "I know you," he started again. "I know when you are not entirely happy."

Harry's face fell. "You're right, Ron," he replied. "That doesn't mean I can tell you what's up."

"Why not?" Ron asked reproachfully.

"Because," Harry hesitated, "because I don't want to lose you as a friend."

"You won't," Ron stated confidently.

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "You can say that now."

"It's the truth."

It was Harry's turn to shake his head. He looked down at his hands, hoping Ron would go away if he didn't say anything. However, Ron seemed to be more insistent than Harry had ever known him. Harry knew his friend was worried about him, but he also felt that the situation had a far too dangerous potential of pushing Ron's friendship away. He was torn.

"Tell me," Ron prodded at last.

"You really want to know?" Harry shouted unsure why his anger was rising. "I'm jealous of you!"

Ron's eyes widened in disbelief. He could not imagine why Harry would be envious of him in any way. "Of me? Why?"

"Because you have Hermione," explained Harry flatly.

Ron's eyes closed with understanding. "You love her."

"Yes," was all Harry could muster. He felt his friendship slipping away by the second.

"Did you tell her?" Ron asked.

Harry was completely flabbergasted. Ron's tone was soft and inquiring, not at all accusatory or resentful. Harry shook his head in response.

"Harry, you should," Ron advised. Harry could not believe the conversation was going like this. How could Ron, Hermione's boyfriend, suggest that he tell her his feelings for her?

"How can you say that?" Harry asked as his jaw dropped.

"Harry," Ron laughed, "I trust you. You are my friend and I know that you would not come between Hermione and me. You love her, yes, but she has a right to know too. She cares about you. _I_ care about you. We want to see you happy. Like I said before, I've known you for six years. I know you bottle things inside, but what good does it usually do? Besides who knows if Hermione and I will work out." Harry arched his eyebrows questioningly. "Oh, don't get me wrong," Ron laughed again. "I hope it does."

Harry allowed the smallest of grins to grace his lips. "Thanks, Ron."

"Are you going to tell her then?" Ron queried.

"I can't, not yet," Harry responded.

"You don't need to, you already have."

The two boys wheeled around to see Hermione standing by the stairs, her eyes brimming with tears. Harry and Ron stood quickly and Harry could feel the embarrassment flush his cheeks. Hermione rushed over to them and flung her arms around Harry's neck. Harry stood stunned with his arms at his sides. Ron was grinning stupidly at the two of them. Harry finally relaxed and returned her embrace. It was wonderful and Harry felt has though a thousand pound weight was leaving his chest.

"Stop looking at me like that you idiot," Harry said sheepishly lightly punching Ron on the arm as he and Hermione pulled apart at last. Hermione smiled and gave Ron a tender kiss on the cheek. Ron closed his eyes and softly leaned into it. Hermione finally knew. Harry felt free. _This will be a great day, indeed,_ Harry thought.

* * *

By ten o'clock Ron and Harry had eaten breakfast and were making their way with the rest of the team to the locker rooms to change. Katie, Ginny, Euan, Andrew, and Jack were nearly to the locker rooms and as Harry observed them he allowed himself a small smile. It was amazing how much his team had grown. 

Katie had always been a superb chaser, but had not always been confident of her own abilities. In the past she had worked well on the team, but preferred to give Angelina Johnson the glory of scoring. This year she had come into her own.

Ginny had proven herself an outstanding seeker the previous year, but once Harry had returned to the team, she changed to chaser. She proved just as outstanding in her new role. With all the talent she possessed Harry suspected she probably could have played beater or keeper and been just as successful.

Then there was little Euan, the second year. Euan had taken to Harry in a reverence unlike that of the Creevey brothers. Colin and Dennis saw him as something like a god. Harry detested this distinction. Euan on the other hand had begun to look up to him like a older brother. Because he had always been an only child, Harry relished this role. Harry had taken great pleasure in nurturing the younger player into the fine chaser he was. Euan was by no means brilliant, but his desire for the game more than made up for any shortcomings.

Harry chuckled to himself when he thought of Andrew and Jack. He remembered how pathetic they had been the year before. Their turn around was more startling than anyone's. Harry knew he would always consider Fred and George the best beaters, however, he could not deny that Andrew and Jack could now probably give them a good run for their money.

Mere feet from the locker rooms Harry noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Habit caused him to look toward the lake. Sure enough, Dumbledore could be seen nearby staring out over the water with his hands clasped behind his back. Yet, it was not he who had triggered Harry's gaze. Approaching slowly behind Professor Dumbledore was the one person that made Harry's heart leap with hope. It was Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore's arms had dropped to his sides and his shoulders were stooped depressingly.

"What are you waiting for?" Harry heard Ron ask.

"Go on," Harry hissed. "I'll be there in a minute." Ron shrugged but obeyed. Harry returned his eyes to his two professors before him. "Yes," he whispered, "what are you waiting for?" His anticipation was becoming unbearable, but he dare not even move lest they realize he was watching them. Dumbledore was not yet aware that McGonagall was creeping behind him. Once by his side, Harry watched as she tentatively eased her fingers into the Headmaster's hand. Professor Dumbledore did not respond right away, but even from a distance Harry could see his fingers close around McGonagall's. He turned to face her at last. Harry was too far away to overhear their conversation, but he could see Dumbledore was avoiding her eyes. It was not until Professor McGonagall had gently guided his chin to force him to do so that Harry could tell they were both crying. This worried Harry greatly. Was she confronting him because she realized that Dumbledore must have disclosed their prior relationship with Harry? For a moment Harry's worry seemed justified as any composure that had remained on Dumbledore's face vanished. As Professor Dumbledore made to leave, Professor McGonagall gripped his wrist and pulled him back to face her. She was speaking so adamantly that with each passing second Harry's nervousness compounded. However, his anxiety quickly melted away when McGonagall pulled Professor Dumbledore into a tight embrace. She then cupped his head in her hands and kissed his forehead. The truth had been demanded to be known, and with it brought a revelation of unimaginable proportions.

They turned to walk arm in arm toward the quidditch field before Harry could suppress the emotions rising inside him. "Woohoo!" he yelled happily punching the air. Realizing he had just blown his cover, Harry ran quickly into the locker rooms to change. It would have taken ten scourgify spells to wipe the grin off Harry's face.

The teams were now out on the field. For some reason Ron seemed to be taking twisted pleasure in the expression on Malfoy's face. "Look how worried he looks!" Ron bellowed. Madame Hooch had called the team captains over to shake hands. Malfoy looked almost as green as his robes. Harry smiled at Malfoy. This move only seemed to incense Malfoy more, which is of course what Harry was after.

As Harry and Malfoy shook hands, trying to break each others fingers, Harry whispered, "Don't worry Malfoy. It'll be over soon." Harry couldn't help but notice that Madame Hooch was barely suppressing a grin herself.

The game was just as lopsided as Harry thought it would be. Ron could have taken a nap if he had wanted. The quaffle never even made in down to the Gryffindor end of the pitch. In ten minutes time the score was already one hundred seventy to zero in Gryffindor's favor. It was then that Harry saw it. The sun caught a tiny glint of gold underneath Ron's goals. Harry knew that Malfoy had not seen it, and he could not resist performing a loop to loop around the Slytherin seeker before zooming off to catch the snitch. He was upon it in a flash. Harry closed his fingers around the tiny ball, feeling its wings fight against his grasp. The match was over in a mere fifteen minutes and the stadium exploded into thunderous applause. Though Gryffindor had soundly beaten Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, they had at least scored a few goals. Harry could hardly contain his glee that Gryffindor had blanked the Slytherins three hundred twenty to zero.

His happiness was short lived, however. While taking part in the Gryffindor victory lap, Harry's scar exploded with pain. The agony was so intense, but as Harry lost consciousness mid-flight, he heard laughter escape his own mouth. The laughter contained not a trace of humor, it was a laugh of perverse triumph.

* * *

"Harry," said a worried woman's voice. Harry could not move. The pain in his head had subsided somewhat, but now he felt it in his neck and back. His face felt warm and wet and Harry struggled to open his eyes. 

"Harry," the voice said again. Harry finally opened his eyes and saw Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore around him. McGonagall was trying to support him on her lap and Harry could see the tear stains on her cheeks. When he saw his reflection in her square spectacles, he noticed that his face was covered in blood spewing forth from the multiple lacerations there. Dumbledore too, looked incredibly grave. He had both hands around Harry's neck stabilizing it. He was mumbling softly, but Harry could not understand him. People were standing around them talking. Harry could hear the voices of the other teachers trying to keep the students back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a hysterical Hermione and adamant Ron trying to reach their fallen friend, but were being restrained by Snape. The Potions master had a peculiar expression on his face.

"What happened?" Harry asked. His voice sounded raspy and strained in his ears. He could taste the blood filling his mouth, choking him.

"You clutched your head," McGonagall explained, her voice quivering, "and lost control of the broom. You crashed into the stadium wall before you could recover."

McGonagall's words quickly stirred Harry's memory. "Voldemort!" Harry announced trying desperately to sit up. No matter how he tried, he could not do so. "I can't move," he whispered hearing the fear creeping into his voice.

Dumbledore spoke softly to try and soothe his young charge. "Harry," he said, "take deep breaths. We will be taking a portkey to the hospital wing momentarily. You have seriously injured yourself and I must ask you to remain as calm as possible so that we will not worsen those injuries."

"Yes, Sir," Harry said. He was scared, but he must tell Professor Dumbledore. Harry breathed trying to speak before the pain and fear overwhelmed him and he lost consciousness once more. The portkey whisked the three of them away to the hospital wing.

"Voldemort has a new ally."


	9. Little Judas

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Okay, so I don't mind admitting I've been really annoyed with ffnet the last couple of days. I apologize to all of you who are having difficulties accessing my updates. Also, just so you all know I am still writing the end so my updates will be slowing down a bit now. I have been pretty good lately about updating a chapter a day, but I don't think that is going to stay consistent for too much longer. I have everything worked out in my brain, but apparently my muse has gone on vacation because I have run into some difficulties wording things the way I want without it sounding forced. But I am definitely on the downswing now. Thank you so much to Amandah, Liat1989, Quill of Minerva, Lou. McGonagall, mugglemin, and Aurinko for reviewing! Hopefully ffnet will get the bugs worked out soon. Enjoy chapter nine!

**Chapter Nine: Little Judas**

When Harry awoke he found himself staring at the hospital wing ceiling. He did not know how long he had been out, but apprehension came flooding back to him as he began to remember what had transpired. He remembered Voldemort's voice and how he had been unable to move. Was he paralyzed? Harry tried to sit but found that he was restrained in the bed. A brace was supporting his neck. A wave of panic washed over him and he began to feel himself hyperventilate. He was gasping for air when he felt a hand squeeze his own. It was a comforting sensation and Harry's breaths were slowing down.

"Am I paralyzed?" Harry spluttered nervously, not knowing to whom he was speaking.

He could hear the creak of a chair as whoever was holding his hand stood. It was Professor McGonagall. She leaned over his bed so that she could look him in the eyes. "No," she said soothingly.

"But I can't move!" Harry shouted feeling himself becoming upset again. McGonagall was stroking his forehead.

"Harry, move your fingers," the professor prompted. Harry wriggled his fingers and sighed with relief. "We had to immobilize you to allow your spinal cord to heal properly," McGonagall explained. "We have been very worried about you."

"Who's we?" Harry asked.

"Albus, er, Professor Dumbledore," she blushed, "well, everyone in fact."

"Could I have my glasses, please?" Harry inquired smiling. "I can't see anything without them." Professor McGonagall reached for his bedside table and place his glasses carefully upon his face. "How long have I been out?"

"Four days," McGonagall responded. "There is something you need to..."

"I will tell him Minerva," a voice interrupted. Harry could not see who it was, but he knew it had to be Professor Dumbledore. A weight dropped onto the edge of Harry's bed and the young man turned his eyes to see his Headmaster sitting there. Dumbledore's eyes looked hollowed and exhausted. Their usual twinkle was notably absent.

"What is it, Sir?" Harry prodded.

"The day of your accident I assumed you had another vision that caused you to lose consciousness," he disclosed. "You were quite correct in what you informed me of. Voldemort and his Death Eaters staged an assault upon Azkaban Prison early last Saturday morning. His followers that had been captured in the Department of Mysteries last June have once more escaped. Voldemort tempted other prisoners to join him by offering their freedom. A few apparently accepted. One who concerns us is.."

"Dolores Umbridge," Harry finished for him. Dumbledore nodded.

* * *

Ron and Hermione came and visited Harry everyday upon the conclusion of classes. Though Harry thoroughly enjoyed their visits, it was obvious that Madame Pomfrey was less than thrilled. "Mr. Potter needs his rest!" she would exclaim.

"Honestly, Madame Pomfrey," Harry would chide, "how worked up can I get just lying here?" Harry had improved to where the neck brace and body bind were no longer necessary. Though Harry suspected Madame Pomfrey would have liked to have kept them just to spite him.

"Old bat," Ron scowled as the nurse finished chastising the trio for the third time that evening. Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she didn't respond.

The sight made Harry smile truly for the first time in days. His expression soon sombered, however. "What about the Death Eaters and Umbridge?" Harry asked. "What have they been doing?"

"As far as we can tell, nothing," Hermione replied. Harry raised his eyebrows doubtfully.

"It's just like in chess. They're biding their time," Ron said wisely. "They're not going to strike until the have an advantage."

"I'd say a dozen escaped Death Eaters is an advantage," Harry expressed sarcastically.

"Yeah, but he had that before," Ron stated rolling his eyes. "Voldemort is going to wait until he can hold all the cards." Ron looked from one friend to another confused. Both Hermione and Harry and their mouths hanging open as if caught by surprise. "What?" Ron hissed.

"You said _Voldemort_," the other two responded simultaneously.

"_So?_"

"You never say his name, Ron," gasped Hermione.

Ron's ears went red. "Yeah, well, I finally realized that you were right all along," he blushed. "His name is not what I fear, it is his actions."

"How profound," said Harry dryly.

"What I don't get," Hermione interrupted perhaps trying to divert an argument, "is why Dumbledore would be so especially worried about Umbridge joining Voldemort? I know she's evil, but hardly the most impressive witch."

"Look at Peter Pettigrew," Harry said somberly. "Everyone said he had to work hard and get help just to make it through Hogwarts. Yet, look what has happened since he aligned himself with Voldemort. Voldemort can utilize anyone to accomplish his goals."

"And she knows a lot about the inner workings of Hogwarts now," Ron added. "She's almost as good as a spy."

"That's true," Hermione thought aloud, "but I can't think of what she could tell him though that he wouldn't already know, or Dumbledore hasn't thought of." Both boys just shrugged. "Oh!" Hermione announced suddenly. "What will really surprise you is how Snape reacted to your accident!"

"Let me guess, he danced with glee?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"No, he actually seemed quite beside himself with worry," Ron mused. "It was weird, really. He seemed almost human."

"I wonder what that's all about?" pondered Harry curiously.

Ron and Hermione just shrugged. Since his accident, Harry quickly tired. He would start to feel as though his head was too heavy for his neck to support, and a numb, tingling sensation would creep into his limbs. Harry shifted his body to snuggle back down upon his pillows. Hermione eyed him somewhat nervously. "Tired Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah, but Madame Pomfrey said I would be for a while. She said my body is working so hard to heal itself," Harry disclosed. "Don't worry. It's okay."

"When are you going to be able to come back to classes?" Ron inquired.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "If I try to stand for too long, or do too much my arms and legs go numb with the effort. Madame Pomfrey says that I have to stay here until that stops."

Right on cue, Madame Pomfrey stormed out of her office. "OUT!" she exclaimed. Ron rolled his eyes so that only Harry could see. Harry had to suppress his laughter. Infuriating the medi-witch could make for a long recovery indeed. Hermione squeezed his hand softly as she and Ron rose to make their escape.

"See you tomorrow, Harry," Hermione and Ron said together.

"See you."

* * *

Harry remained in the hospital for another week. Ron and Hermione continued to visit, but they were far from being the only ones to do so. Many Gryffindors stopped to keep him company as did a few of Harry's friends from other houses. Hagrid dropped by a couple of times. He usually brought Harry some rock cakes or stoat sandwiches as a "break from tha' hospital slop" as Hagrid put it. Harry was appreciative of the gesture, but had far too much experience with Hagrid's cooking. As a result the cakes and sandwiches tended to make a quick disappearance into Harry's bed pan immediately following Hagrid's departure.

"Am I allowed to leave soon?" Harry asked, bored stiff.

"Why Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said mocking rejection, "it's as if you do not enjoy my company." Harry was surprised by her attempt at humor. "If all goes well at your check up in two days I will have no reservations about letting you return to class."

"Thank you Madame Pomfrey!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

"However," Pomfrey stated sternly. "you will be restricted of activity. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," Harry replied. Harry's fatigue of the hospital wing could cause him to kiss Snape's boots if only he would be released. Well, almost, nothing could be that good.

Madame Pomfrey turned on her heal and stormed to her office. She paused and looked over her shoulder as if as an afterthought. "And don't eat all that candy at once!" she scolded. Harry rolled his eyes. Ron and Hermione had spent the day together at the last Hogsmeade visit. Though they had not forgotten Harry back in the hospital wing. Harry was much appreciative of the trip they made to Honeydukes just for him. There was a small mountain of sweets on the bedside table.

Harry had made good use of his idleness over the last few days. He spent much of his time considering the events that had taken place. First and foremost were his concerns about Voldemort. What was he plotting? Harry knew Voldemort had not yet learned the contents of the prophecy, but he also knew that with or without that knowledge Voldemort's ultimate goal would be Harry's demise. Ironically, it was a goal that Harry shared. Harry was sure that he desired the death of his enemy with the same level of conviction. The difference, however, was Voldemort wanted to kill to achieve complete power, Harry needed to kill to achieve peace.

_And how will Umbridge factor into all this? _Harry thought. Harry delved deep into the realms of his memory. He contemplated all of the experiences he had had with Umbridge. Of course none of them were good. Harry felt a pang, a certainty in his heart that somehow Dolores Umbridge would be playing a significant role for Voldemort. Something inside him told him that it would be soon. What was it that Umbridge had to offer? What secret did she possess that would leave Hogwarts and all those who lived inside her vulnerable?

Harry shook his head to chase away the perplexing thoughts. It was a sure thing that dwelling on such negativity and worry would leave him susceptible to nightmares. Harry forced his brain to remember happier events. The relief of his confession to Hermione, albeit unintentional, gave him hope. He no longer felt despair or frustration plague every waking moment. Though he still longed to be in Ron's position and happy with Hermione, he could now be guilt-free about being happy for Hermione. Similarly, Harry was relieved by the developments he had witnessed in Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall just before the fateful quidditch match.

Harry realized how funny love could truly be. What a strange and mysterious thing it is, love. To be without it is like being deprived of oxygen. Harry, who had known none in nine of the first ten years of his life, perceived love as the great gift and torment that it was. Dumbledore and McGonagall had also known this truth all too well. Harry could not help but think of the love Professor Dumbledore had held in secret for more than fifty years. How astonishing it was that his professors had been living their lives knowing one truth, but living another. They had been like birds living in separate cages in a manner of speaking. Harry smiled to himself when he realized that his little nudge on Professor McGonagall had been like the key to those cages; its occupants now free to find each other.

Harry yawned widely. He removed his glasses and placed them upon the beside table. This was not as easy a task as normal thanks to Ron and Hermione's contribution to the contents laboring the tabletop. Resigning to the fact there would be no room, Harry simply laid his glasses on top of the pile of chocolates. He nestled down into his pillows, and with a last reminiscence of his two professors drifted off to sleep.

It was dark, very dark. Despite the blackness people were moving around quietly. ...Harry sat in the corner drumming his fingers...What was this place? Something about it seemed oddly familiar...He looked around...The doors of the dusty room opened...A short, squat figure strode in with an air of sinister confidence...A high, girlish voice spoke, _"We have her, my Lord."_ Two more figures, hooded and cloaked, dragged a third between them. The third figure was hunched over gingerly...Harry's fingers desisted their drumming at once... _"Excellent," _said Harry, but with a cold voice most unlike his own...The third figure was thrown roughly to the floor...Harry began to speak again, _"All we have to do now is wait. Our quarry will come to us." _Harry laughed...He turned to another cloaked figure to his left, "_In the mean time, have fun, my friend." _ The figure bowed and Harry heard the man's drawling voice, _"My pleasure." _He turned to the crumpled form on the floor...When the man's heavy boot connected squarely in the fallen victim's chest, Harry clutched his forehead...It was pain beyond measure.

Harry awoke and abruptly vomited onto the floor. He seized his glasses from his bedside table, sending Honeydukes sweets in all directions. Harry felt feverish. He was weak. It seemed to take insurmountable strength to force one foot in front of the other. Harry's legs and arms were numb, he could not control them. He had to get to Dumbledore, but he was stumbling and falling over and over. Eventually Harry was pulling himself along, using furniture and whatever other means to reach Dumbledore's office as soon as possible. His scar seared again and Harry once more fell to the floor. His cheek was resting upon the cold, stone surface. The temperature soothed his burning head, and Harry had much difficulty resurrecting his willpower to continue on. A sharp pain in his ribs told him that the Death Eaters were busy now with the individual he had seen in his dream. Harry had a sick suspicion he knew who it was.

This knowledge caused him to vomit once more, but also gave him an added surge of strength. He pushed his way to his feet. He swayed dangerously, but ran from corridor to corridor. With each torturous step, he could feel pain springing up all over his body. The Death Eaters' captive was paying dearly. Before he knew it, Harry found himself before the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. A sense of panic enveloped him as Harry realized he had no idea what the password was. Harry's urgency made it impossible to think of possibilities. "Let me in!" Harry shouted. "This is important!" He was becoming increasingly desperate. The gargoyle remained still. Harry pounded his fists upon it. This only added pain to his weakening body. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him.

"Fawkes!" Harry bellowed. A ball of flame burst behind him. Harry turned to see the phoenix gliding toward him. The bird hovered before Harry. The young man reached out by instinct and grasped Fawkes' tail. A second burst of flame surrounded him and Harry found himself opening his eyes to the familiar sight of the inside of the office he had so fiercely desired to enter.

Dumbledore was there, but did not even look upon Harry's dramatic entrance. Harry rushed to the Headmaster who was sitting slumped on a small sofa. "He's got her!" Harry yelled. Professor Dumbledore remained ever still. Harry seized his shoulders and shook the man intensely. "Professor!," he yelled again. "Voldemort has Professor McGonagall! They are hurting her!"

The fog in Dumbledore's eyes lifted at last. He looked Harry squarely in the face. "I know." Harry heard a piece of parchment hit the floor. Dumbledore's hand was dangling over the edge of the sofa. Apparently he had been reading this document before Harry had arrived. The parchment lay face up beneath Dumbledore's outstretched fingers. The message was simple, but ominous.

_**She will die in three days.  
Give me what I want.**_

_**

* * *

**_

The next morning Harry had refused to go back to the hospital wing. He was weak, but the last thing he wanted was Madame Pomfrey fussing over him. Instead, Harry had made his way to his dormitory. He rifled through his trunk before he found his invisibility cloak. Not knowing where to go, Harry simply sank upon the floor beside his bed. He drew his knees to his chest and put his head down upon them.

Harry had been able to surmise a few facts as to what had happened through Dumbledore's incoherent state of shock the night before. Professor McGonagall had escorted the students to Hogsmeade as she always had done. No one knew when she had disappeared however. A great rush of despair threatened to consume him. He now understood what Umbridge had done. She knew the students visited Hogsmeade periodically throughout the year and that it was Professor McGonagall who would chaperone. She also knew that Professor Dumbledore had a close relationship with McGonagall. Ironically, she had not known the recent development, but the timing was inconceivable. Here was exactly what Dumbledore had feared all those years ago. Voldemort was using someone he cared about to achieve his ends. Dumbledore had refused to say what Voldemort had been after, but that was hardly necessary. Harry knew it was him, and he also knew that no matter how much he loved Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore would never sacrifice him for her. Neither would McGonagall except such a trade.

Footsteps echoed into the dormitory from the stairwell. Harry held himself still. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He had to think. He knew he had seen the room where McGonagall was being held captive before, but he could not remember. Underneath his cloak, Harry looked to the doorway as Ron and Hermione entered.

"Where is he?" asked Hermione shakily.

"I don't know," answered Ron. Hermione sank pathetically to the floor as Ron put his arm around her. Silent sobs began to shake her body. "Don't cry," Ron soothed.

"But what if they have Harry, too?" Hermione cried softly. Harry felt a sense of guilt rising in him. His need to be alone was only causing his friends unnecessary anguish.

Harry stood allowing the invisibility cloak to fall to the ground. "They don't," he replied.

"Harry!" Hermione, and surprisingly Ron, rushed to him and threw their arms around his neck. Harry could feel Hermione's tears dripping gently onto his skin. He leaned his cheek onto the top of her head and placed his arm around Ron. The trio stood quietly for a moment embracing each other.

"What happened?" Hermione queried pulling away at last. Harry explained all about the dream. He told them of his suspicions that McGonagall was being held in a room where he had once been, and how she was suffering now. Ron paled and sank onto Harry's four-poster. He put his head in his hands. Once Harry finished his story the room was silent for several moments.

"Harry, what if..." Hermione began. She seemed to be working something out in her brain as she spoke. "What if you haven't _really_ been there before? The room I mean. What if...you have only seen it before?"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted, "that doesn't make any sense."

"Shh!" she waved Ron quiet. "Yes it does! Here me out!"

"Go on," Harry prompted.

"What if when you saw it last night...you were witnessing it for...for the second time though someone else's eyes?" She gasped, "Harry, I think you dreamed it before."

"Of course!" Harry shouted in revelation. "But which memory is it?"

"If you only recognized someone other than Umbridge or Voldemort in you vision," mused Ron.

Harry closed his eyes. He was willing himself to relive the vision. A cloaked figure popped into his brain. _"My pleasure," _it had said in a drawling voice. "I do," Harry replied.

"Who?" his friends asked together.

"The drawling voice," Harry disclosed. "Who do we know that has a drawling voice?" Harry nodded as he saw comprehension dawn upon Ron and Hermione's faces. "The man beating Professor McGonagall is Malfoy's father." A sudden pained expression flashed across Harry's face.

"What is it?" Ron asked worriedly.

"We need to hurry," Harry explained turning to sprint out of the dormitory. "They are hurting her again." The trio flew down the steps and out of the portrait hole. The Fat Lady called after them, scolding them. But they hardly heard nor cared what she said.

Harry and the others burst through the doors in the Great Hall. Harry's eyes scanned the Slytherin table to find Malfoy. It wasn't difficult. He was sitting in the middle of it, surrounded by his cronies. He was laughing about something and Harry felt a surge of anger and hatred course through his entire being. Ron and Hermione, having spotted Malfoy as well, made sure to keep up with him before Harry did anything rash.

"What have you done?" Harry seethed. Malfoy slowly turned to face him with the usual disgusting smirk gracing his lips.

"Well, well, Potter," Malfoy ridiculed. "Have you _lost_ something?"

"You told them about the Hogsmeade weekend, didn't you?" Ron chimed in his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"And what if I did, Weasley?" the Slytherin taunted. He turned his attention back to Harry. Harry was shaking with rage. "I told you my father would escape. I told you I would make you pay for putting him in prison, though I doubt I will have the pleasure of knowing how much you suffered like someone else I know." The level of pure evil in Malfoy's demeanor could be described as nothing less than disturbing.

"Where is she!" Harry yelled.

Malfoy laughed, "Even if I did know that, I would not tell you Potter."

Harry instinctively realized that Malfoy did indeed not know where Professor McGonagall was. He turned to leave. Ron and Hermione began to follow him. He was incensed. Professor McGonagall had always been a fair and just teacher. She had regarded the Slytherins with the same level of respect that she had for her own Gryffindors. She had never shown favoritism, nor bias. She had always been strongly and dependently fair.

"Funny about McGonagall, isn't it?" Malfoy had continued. Harry slowly spun on the spot having only made it a few steps from the Slytherin table.

"What do you mean, Draco?" laughed Pansy Parkinson with tears of mirth in her eyes.

"Well," Malfoy explained staring Harry dead in the eyes, "after six years at this joke of a school, it surprised even me to find out that McGonagall has been Dumbledore's whore."

The next few moments were like a dream itself. The last few words of his statement seemed to have reverberated around the Great Hall. An eerie silence descended upon them. Heads from every corner; Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor turned to face the Slytherins. If Malfoy had been seeking a confrontation he sure received it. However, it came from the least expected source imaginable. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been too stunned to react to Malfoy's derogatory remark, yet there was another in the Great Hall who responded without hesitation.

"Stupefy!"

Malfoy's pale complexion became bathed in red light. The stunning spell hit him in the face and he flew backward off of his seat. Harry wheeled around to identify the source of the curse. Standing with her wand still raised was a violently shaking Madame Pomfrey. A collective gasp of disbelief was ushered from the student body. Madame Pomfrey had dedicated her life to healing and protecting the students of Hogwarts, but in this moment she had for the first time caused one of them harm. Yet, Harry remembered how she had reacted when McGonagall had to be sent to St. Mungo's all those months ago. Without another word, she lowered her arm at last. She gave Malfoy one last fleeting look before slowly exiting the hall.

* * *

That night was pure agony for Harry. He knew that somewhere out there Professor McGonagall was fighting for her life. A life that may extinguish in one more day. Harry lay in his bed with the curtains pulled around him. He had his fist in his mouth to stifle the sobs escaping him. Harry had never felt so utterly helpless. Harry closed his eyes to see the room where McGonagall was being held. Why did he know it? When had he seen it before? Harry pounded his fist on his forehead as if trying to force the memory out. _It's like a riddle with no answer, _Harry thought. Suddenly Harry's eyes widened and he sat bolt upright in bed. "Riddle," he said aloud.

Harry flew out of the bed and dressed as quickly as possible. He knew what he must do. There was no question. Harry grabbed his wand and turned to leave the dormitory. A particularly loud snore from Ron made him stop. He turned to his sleeping friend. Harry crept quietly over to Ron's bed. The curtains were pulled back slightly and Harry could see Ron sleeping peacefully. Slowly, he bent to Ron's ear. "I can't take you this time, my friend," he whispered. "Take care of her." With that Harry departed the dormitory without a second glance.

Had Harry not been so determined he may have noticed the creak of floor boards as a second individual arose from the confines of a four-poster.

* * *

"What a strange and mysterious thing it is, love. To be without it is like being deprived of oxygen ."

-Emily Delahunty_  
My House in Umbria_, William Trevor, 1996  
film version, HBO Studios, 2003

Incidentally, Emily Delahunty was portrayed by the fabulous Maggie Smith in the 2003 film. If you have not seen it I highly recommend it. Smith, who we all know and love as Professor McGonagall in the Harry Potter films, is brilliant in this film and has the ability to draw all kinds of emotion from you. It is fitting that she won the American Emmy for her performance. So...check it out!


	10. Beguile My Heart

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Just an advanced warning here...Chapters ten and eleven will have some violence, which may be extreme at times. Also, please don't hate me, but this is the last chapter that I have completed. So, chapters eleven and twelve (I think there will only be two more anyway) may be a while down the road. I am working on them as fast as I can, but I don't want to post mediocre chapters. For all of you who have really been following the story deserve no less than my best! I think you would all agree with that. So, please be patient and I promise you that you will be rewarded for it. That's my plan anyway. Thanks as always to all of my splendid reviewers: Quill of Minerva, PiroKitty, Liat1989, Lou. McGonagall, Nightwing 509, and mugglemin! Oh, and Clayre? Might I suggest that you wear gloves as you read to save your poor nails?

**Chapter Ten: Beguile My Heart**

Harry crept quietly down the corridor. In his haste to exit the dormitory Harry had forgotten the two tools with which he now sorely needed: his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map. It was important that Harry make his way to Professor McGonagall's office undetected. If Filch or Snape caught him now Dumbledore would be alerted and Harry knew the Headmaster would never allow him to face Voldemort. Inching in the shadows, Harry reached the mahogany door of which he had entered to serve his detentions all those weeks ago. However, for the second time in two days Harry found himself needing entry to a room in which he did not know the password. Fawkes could not assist him this time. Any departure of Fawkes would surely be noticed by Dumbledore.

Harry emptied his mind to the best of his ability. What could the password be? A thought, beginning as a glimmer, ignited in his brain. The faintest of grins began to insinuate itself on Harry's face. "Tabby cat," he whispered. The door edged open slightly bearing to Harry the thing for which he had come; McGonagall's fireplace. This was the one locale in all of Hogwarts where Harry knew he could find not only a fireplace, but Floo powder as well. Noticing the box on the mantle, Harry quickly grabbed a handful of the powder. He took one last encouraging breath and as he threw down the Floo powder to give birth to swirling, emerald flames, Harry shouted, "Riddle House, Little Hangleton!"

Immediately Harry was met by the familiar spinning motion of the Floo network. He tried to keep his elbows close to his body, and closed his eyes to the dizzying effect. It was not long before Harry felt himself spill out onto a dusty wood floor. Scrambling to his feet as quickly as he could, Harry scanned the room for activity. An entrance by Floo powder was not the most discreet method, but Harry had had little choice. Luckily the room seemed devoid of Death Eaters or Voldemort. However, a crumpled figure was lying in the middle of the room.

The only light source in the room was a small lantern hanging on a hook by the door, but it emitted enough illumination for Harry to recognize a pair of torn, emerald robes. Harry rushed to the body, falling to his knees beside it. Tentatively, Harry reached beneath the woman and gingerly turned her over, not knowing what he would find. The sight that met his eyes quickly sickened him. Harry had to exercise every ounce of self-control not to retch at the sight. The woman was Professor McGonagall, as Harry had known, but she was hardly recognizable. Her shoes were gone and it seemed that every inch of her that was visible was covered in bruises or lacerations. There was a wide gash that traveled the length of her cheek under her eye. It reached from her ear to the bridge of her nose, which was evidently broken. One eye was swollen shut and her lip was bleeding. Her left shoulder hung grotesquely from its socket and her wrists showed telling trauma that they had been tightly bound. Even by the meager light Harry could see angry red marks sticking out on her neck as he tested for a pulse. It took a moment to realize that these marks were in the shape of hands. McGonagall had been choked.

Yet, she was alive. Harry shifted the professor on his lap, a move he soon regretted as he could hear the crunching of her ribcage. "Professor McGonagall?" Harry spoke softly. He did not want to alert any of the house guests. "Professor McGonagall," he said again. She moaned quietly but did not wake.

Harry felt a pang of anxiety absorb him. He had been in such a hurry to get to the Riddle House that he had not stopped to think of how he would get back. He had not grabbed any extra Floo Powder before his departure. Before he was able to continue in this line of thinking the fireplace behind him once more erupted into emerald flames. A figure Harry never expected to see poured out onto the floor.

The new arrival rose to his feet and rushed to Harry's side. It was Neville. "Neville, what are you doing here?" Harry asked slightly annoyed.

"Harry," gasped Neville, "I followed you! I knew you were coming after Professor McGonagall, so I came to help!" The chubby boy turned his attention to McGonagall's face. Despite the inadequate light Harry could see all the color drain from Neville's complexion, and Harry thought he may pass out at any time. Neville surprised him though. The boy swallowed hard before he spoke again. "We've got to get her out of here," he said simply.

"Oh, I don't think so," said a high, cold voice. "Thanks for joining us, Mr. Potter." The two boys rotated suddenly to see Voldemort striding confidently toward them. Neville jumped to his feet pulling out his wand. Harry delicately laid Professor McGonagall back on the floor before he rose and did the same. "You followed my plan so perfectly, I knew you could not resist the chance to play hero again, Potter," Voldemort stated.

All around them Harry could sense the shadows moving. Rustling robes and ragged breathing emanated from them. Harry knew at once the he and Neville were surrounded. Neville was quivering next to him, but his face remained stoic and focused. Gone were the days when Neville backed down to any challenge.

Two hooded figures emerged from the rabble to align themselves on either side of their master. It did not take Harry long to assess who they were. To the right of Voldemort was a short, squat individual. Though cloaked, Harry could see sausage-like fingers bearing several ugly rings. The figure on the left lowered his hood and grinned ominously. His silvery blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Harry could feel himself shaking with fury. Malfoy and Umbridge, two people whom he loathed more than anyone.

"Well, well," sneered Malfoy, "it's Dumbledore's favorite son. The Dark Lord knows you all too well. Once again you have allowed this disease of yours to play into our hands. How very touching."

"Disease?" Neville asked, his eyes widening apparently surprised that he had spoken.

"Why, love, of course," Malfoy explained. "Love is a disease, a sickness from which fools like you and Dumbledore suffer."

"Love is a strength," Harry replied quietly but defiantly.

"Love is a joke," Malfoy laughed, "and I have no use for it."

"What about Draco?" Neville blurted.

"Draco? Draco is nothing to me."

"You're a liar," Harry responded coolly.

"Draco is an accident, a mistake of nature, but my heir. Yet, you are right, Potter. He does have his uses. However, his uses to me are limited, and I do not love him for them," said Malfoy coldly.

The eerie silence that hung in the air made Harry's insides swell with consternation. Neville, too, was shifting around nervously as everyone in the room seemed to be waiting for someone else to make the next move. The apprehensive calm was broken only when a stifled groan emanated from the floor. Professor McGonagall was stirring incoherently and it broke Harry's heart to think of the agony she must be suffering. As Harry looked helplessly at his fallen professor a low noise began behind him. It startled as a rumble and eventually grew to a disturbingly out of place giggle. Harry turned his attention to the source of the giggle and was not surprised when it was Umbridge. White-hot fury began to erupt from his very core. As far as Harry was concerned Umbridge was more to blame for McGonagall's present state than Malfoy and the other Death Eaters. She had betrayed them. It was she who sold Professor McGonagall to their vengeance.

"Show yourself," Harry hissed, "I know it is you, you horrid toad." The sickening giggle quickly died. The short witch to Voldemort's side hesitated for a mere fraction of a second. Then her sausage-like fingers slowly reached up and pulled back the hood of her cloak. It was indeed, Dolores Umbridge, but Harry could not restrain a twisted grin that appeared on his own face. Umbridge had three, long scratches on one of her cheeks that looked suspiciously like fingernail marks. "Looks like Professor McGonagall got her pound of flesh, eh Umbridge? Looks like she was able to damage you before you abandoned her to these animals."

"You think I'm a traitor, Potter?" Umbridge shot back sounding slightly hysterical. "You have it all wrong Potter. It was I who was betrayed."

"You're mad," Harry responded, repulsed.

"Mad, am I?" Umbridge laughed sinisterly. "No, Potter, I am thinking clearly. I went to Hogwarts last year to fulfill a vital mission to the ministry. You were a law unto yourself, and I knew I could no longer permit that. The ministry morons were all whining about what to do with you, but I knew. I knew how to silence you. And it worked, didn't it Potter?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked looking her up and down.

"I had total control over you and the school. You were at my mercy and never did you run to Dumbledore, for which I am thankful. Only this...," she said waving her hand impatiently at McGonagall, "stood in my way. But she too was just another threat I put out of commission."

Harry's brain reeled to the memory of a solitary figure rushing out of the castle to rescue Hagrid. Had the four stunners to the professor been a planned attack? "That night," Harry paused, "that night out on the grounds you were planning to attack Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course," said Umbridge in a bored voice. Her indifference disturbed Harry greatly. "My intentions were two-fold. She and the half-breed were my two biggest obstacles in gaining control over every facet of Hogwarts. I knew the giant would be easy enough to get rid of, but I must say I was severely disappointed when she survived. But lucky for me, it is a mistake that I can rectify here tonight."

A flurry of rage and flying fists soared past Harry in a blur. Before he could realize what had happened, Neville was being knocked to the ground by Lucius Malfoy. Even while sprawled on the floor Neville was shaking violently as his wand rolled away into the shadows. "You...you...," could be heard escaping his lips, but a well placed kick to Neville's head rendered him silent. The situation was becoming more desperate by the minute. Harry knew he had to stall as long as possible.

"That doesn't explain why you are the one who was betrayed," Harry said almost calmly.

"Think about it, Potter," Umbridge scorned. Her eyes were bulging now and it seemed they were in danger of popping out of her head. "Who sent me to Hogwarts in the first place? And then who was it that handed me over to rot in Azkaban? That bumbling idiot Fudge folded the minute allegations were made against me. He could not stand the thought of his name being tarnished. He made it out to sound that I had acted independently from him at the school. In many ways I did, but it was Fudge who sent me there to reign you in. It was Fudge who ordered me to keep Dumbledore's hands tied and to dominate those who were loyal to him. It was Fudge who cast me aside when things became bleak. It was Fudge who condemned me to that horror of an existence without so much as a second glance."

"So why use McGonagall to get me here?" Harry fumed. "It sounds as though your problem is with Fudge, not her."

"Oh, I have taken care of _my_ problem," mocked Umbridge. "Cornelius Fudge is dead. As far as why McGonagall is here that..."

"...would be for my purposes."

Harry looked over to Voldemort. He had almost forgotten Voldemort was there as the evil wizard had allowed Malfoy and Umbridge to momentarily draw Harry's attention. Voldemort's snake-like mouth was drawn into a purely sinister smirk that made Harry feel nauseous at the sight of it.

"Your purposes?" Harry asked with a sense of foreboding.

"You, of course," Voldemort replied. "Well, you _and_ Dumbledore actually. The two of you have been the greatest thorns in my side for far too long. I needed your dear professor here to persuade Dumbledore to hand you over to me. Alas, I realize that my original plan did not work as I intended, but here you are nonetheless. It was a certainty that if Dumbledore was too much of a coward to save those he supposedly loves, that you would come to the rescue." Several of the Death Eaters lining the walls began to laugh heartily at that. "As for Dumbledore, I do not want to merely see him dead, I want to see him broken. I want to see him utterly destroyed. I want to know that that blasted twinkle in his eye shall dissipate and never return. I want him to suffer until he is begging for death in the end."

"So we come to it then," Harry challenged.

"Indeed we do, Potter. Just take comfort in the fact that your's will be a famous death. After all, only a famous death will suffice for the famous Harry Potter. 'The-Boy-Who-Lived?' After tonight, I think not," Voldemort ridiculed in a low bow.

"We shall see who is left standing in the end Voldemort," Harry warned.

"We shall indeed," Voldemort sneered. "But before we begin let me just say that even though our dear Minerva here is a tabby cat in form, she is really quite the tiger. I can see why Dumbledore keeps her around."

At first this statement meant nothing to Harry. He peered down at Professor McGonagall once more, and as he took in the state of her torn robes and absent shoes he understood. The sounds of the again laughing Death Eaters was lost upon him as Harry turned to Voldemort with his face contorting in a mix of anger and grief.

"Which one of your ogres violated her," Harry demanded in a vengeful sneer to match Voldemort's. "Was it Malfoy? Dolohov?"

"Come now Harry," mocked Voldemort, "I cannot let my followers have all the fun, now can I? It was I who performed this task. And if I do say so myself, I _performed it_ admirably."

An intense howl filled every nook and cranny of the old house. It took a moment for Harry to realize that it was ushering from his own mouth. Such was the force of his outcry that Harry thought his throat may tear. If Voldemort had hoped to provoke Harry into action he had succeeded. Harry flashed his wand like a sword and an intense string of incantations and curses spewed forth from his lips.

"Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus! Impedimenta! Silencio! Stupefy! Reducto! Expecto Patronum! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" he screamed. So much so was Harry's distress and rage that many of the spells he uttered made no sense at all. He simply was calling upon all that he had. He needed to hurt Voldemort. He needed to break him for all the pain and suffering he had caused. But Voldemort was not hurt nor broken once Harry ceased yelling and stood panting laboriously on the spot. The dark wizard had not even raised his wand to protect himself from Harry's curses. On the contrary, he stood quite still with a sickening, triumphant look upon his face. Every spell had hit Voldemort square in the chest, but not one had phased him in the slightest. He simply stood with his arms down to his sides and allowed each spell to overtake him. Harry watched as his last stupefy curse struck his foe in the chest. Voldemort became luminous for a moment, but then the eerie red glow from the hex dissolved into Voldemort as if it was becoming one with its intended victim.

Harry stared with an expression of shock and bewilderment. "I believe it is time to show you my new weapon," Voldemort smirked. The dark wizard turned his back to Harry. After a moment he turned around to face him once more as Harry's brain filled with dread. Yet, when Voldemort stretched out his hand it was empty. Harry did not understand and his brow furrowed deeply to demonstrate this. "Have you not figured it out yet?" Voldemort asked in an amused tone. "_I _am the weapon."

_How can this be? _Harry thought.

"Perhaps you need an explanation, my young friend?" Voldemort said sensing Harry's query. "I was most fortunate to stumble across an ancient power so wonderfully obscure that it has long since been forgotten. I doubt even your precious headmaster knows of its existence. It is magic so immense in power that few men could survive it, but then again, I am no mere man." Voldemort was striding arrogantly toward Harry now, his arms held wide. "I devoted myself these last few months to learn this intense form of wizardry. No doubt you have heard the adage 'the wand chooses the wizard.' But have you ever wondered why, Potter? Our wands connect to us on a spiritual level. It should not be surprising then that wizards are nearly helpless when deprived of them."

As if on cue, Harry heard Malfoy exclaim, "Expelliarmus!" Harry's wand flew from his hand in a high arc and disappeared somewhere in the darkness. Harry was now defenseless. He was now nearly as vulnerable as the unconscious forms of Neville and Professor McGonagall around him.

_"_You see Potter?" Voldemort laughed. "You cannot defeat me!"

"That doesn't explain why you are a weapon," Harry said once again trying to stall as long as possible. It took all of his withering self-control to restrain the panic trying to enter his voice.

"Quite right, quite right," Voldemort muttered. "Not far from here is the graveyard where you so helpfully returned me to my body. Our battle there gave me all the information I needed to empower myself to your defeat. I discovered that our wands could not work against one another, undoubtedly because we share cores. How should I have proceeded Potter? I could have easily commanded one of my Death Eaters to dispatch you, many would have been eager for the opportunity, but I have been so longing to be the one who would rid the world of you. The answer was so simple really. I had to render your powers useless, and this I have done, make no mistake!"

"Obscurity," continued Voldemort," can be a tremendous blessing. I discovered the perfect tool to aid me in my quest, the Valiturus Draught. It is a potion so powerful that it can transform a wizard so that using a wand is no longer necessary. Yet, the potion has another use, one that is particularly valuable to me. You see, Potter, the principle ingredient in the potion is the wand of the wizard who intends to drink it. Therefore the spent wand becomes ingrained in the very tissues of the drinker."

A dawning of realization filled Harry with apprehension. "Are you saying," Harry began, "that you act as your own wand?"

"Precisely," Voldemort glowered. "However, the potion can also offer me a certain amount of protection from any wizard who shares the same spiritual inclination as I. Meaning, your wand, which holds the exact same core that has now become a part of me, is completely useless to you! You and I are connected, Potter, whether either of us would desire it or not. This is now to my advantage and your doom. So concludes our battle of wills and dreams, you are of no more use to me."

Wandless and alone, Harry closed his eyes to what he knew was coming. As the Death Eaters howled their victory praises upon the air, Voldemort leaned in to whisper in Harry's ear. "Say goodbye, Harry Potter."


	11. Borrowed Time

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** Okay, sorry, sorry, sorry to everyone for the ten day wait between updates. I know how frustrating that is when you are really into a story and you are kept on the edge of your seat! I had a really hard time on this chapter. The beginning and end came easily enough, but apparently my inspiration went on vacation in the middle. Hopefully it won't seem too disjointed or anything. I hope you will all feel rewarded with this chapter, though I doubt you will have expected it to end like this. Don't hate me. Again this chapter will have some violence, perhaps graphic at times. I know I said that there would be twelve chapters, but I'm thinking it will probably be thirteen instead. To all of my reviewers; Joelpup62, Liat1989, E.W./H.D.'s Best Friend, DoomGazeHell, PiroKitty, Jen2281, TabbyMin, Silver Lily 77, mugglemin, Lou. McGonagall, Quill of Minerva, and Maxwell Coffee House; thank you so much! You guys give me even more inspiration! Incidentally, Clayre, look for something in chapter twelve I am including just for you! Enjoy chapter eleven everyone.

**Chapter Eleven: Borrowed Time**

Harry did not open his eyes to peer into the dark wizard's own. It was not the last image he wanted to take with him to eternity. Memories began to surface in Harry's brain in a whirlwind of images. There was Ron levitating a large club in the air. There was Hermione snuggling Crookshanks in an armchair by the fire. There was Oliver Wood strangling him in a sobbing hug after winning the Quidditch Cup. There was Sirius in the train station as a black dog standing on his hindquarters to wish Harry farewell. There was Hagrid telling him he was a wizard. There was Dumbledore standing beside him peering into the Mirror of Erised. There was McGonagall holding his hand telling him he could always talk to her. But mostly it was Ron and Hermione. Seeing their faces. Seeing their smiles and laughter. Yes, that is what he wanted to take with him. It wasn't the pain, it was the laughter. Always the laughter.

Harry knew that Voldemort had retreated from him slightly and Harry closed his eyes all the more tightly when he heard Voldemort's high, sinister voice screech, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Green light was forcing its way through Harry's closed eyelids. Here was how it would end.

"Protego!" shouted a furious voice.

Harry could feel himself squeezing his eyes tighter still. He waited for the blow to fall, but it never came. Harry cautiously fluttered open his eyelids and peered in the direction of the yell. There was Professor Dumbledore framed in the doorway. His complexion was one of the utmost anger and fatigue. His eyes had large shadows under them and his skin was deathly pale. But even with Dumbledore's weakened appearance he radiated a power that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end.

"No!" exclaimed Voldemort, outraged that Dumbledore had deflected the Killing Curse just in time. Death Eaters were scrambling in all directions. It seemed their fear of Dumbledore outweighed their confidence in Voldemort's presence. Voldemort watched the Death Eaters flee with an expression of overwhelming hatred. "Cowards! Filth! Betrayers!" he yelled as his followers disappeared from view.

Professor Dumbledore came rushing into the room to place himself between Harry and the darkest wizard of the age. "Get out of the way Harry!" he yelled fearfully. Harry did not need telling twice though he was afraid for Dumbledore. Harry quickly hurried over to where Professor McGonagall lay on the floor. He worried that any remaining Death Eaters may tread on her in their frenzy to escape Dumbledore's wrath.

Harry turned back toward his headmaster to see the older man intently staring Voldemort down. The two foes remained silent for a few tense moments, each glaring at the other. "So, you feel the need to thwart me once again old man?" Voldemort asked sarcastically at last.

"No, Tom," Professor Dumbledore replied quite calmly. "It is not about you this time."

"Not about me? Ah, I see. You fancy yourself a hero then? Well, what a poor savior you have made," sneered Voldemort. "You have come far too late to save your dear Minerva I'm afraid." Dumbledore's eyes flickered to Professor McGonagall and Harry. They lingered only a fraction of a second before returning to Voldemort.

"She is alive," Dumbledore declared.

"Of course she is," Voldemort said waving his hand dismissively. "Killing her quickly would have been far too easy, and quite frankly, her usefulness was too profound and important for me to dispatch impulsively. She brought you and Potter to me, did she not? Though now she has fulfilled her purpose. I daresay that her fate is of little consequence except for how I may watch you suffer because of it."

"There will be no more suffering on your account, Tom," Dumbledore scolded. "I cannot allow this path to continue."

Voldemort gave Professor Dumbledore an ironic low bow. "Do what you must, you fool," Voldemort leered. "But I think even you know deep down in that pathetic heart of yours that you cannot conquer me." With that Voldemort quickly stood. His hand shot out toward Dumbledore and an eerie blue light erupted from his fingertips. The curse did not strike its target as Dumbledore vanished with a turn of his cloak.

He reappeared moments later behind Voldemort. Harry could tell Dumbledore was trying to draw him away from Neville, Professor McGonagall, and himself. His plan seemed to be working as Voldemort charged the headmaster yelling curses and hexes as he went. Harry watched with dread in his heart as the two powerful wizards battled. The scene was very reminiscent to the one Harry had witnessed in the Ministry of Magic nearly a year ago. Voldemort emitted an almost palpable brutality, while Professor Dumbledore remained as calm as ever. His spells were so soft-spoken that it seemed as though the wizened man was trying to prevent waking a small child.

"When will you learn Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked angrily. "You will have to kill me to be rid of me!"

"I have told you before, Tom," Dumbledore replied deflecting yet another curse, "Killing you would not satisfy me."

Harry knew in his heart what Dumbledore was not admitting. The truth was that Dumbledore could not kill Voldemort. The prophecy had laid out the path to Voldemort's destruction. Unfortunately it was Harry, wandless and unprotected, who was destined to be Voldemort's destroyer. Yet, Harry knew he could not stand idly by for Dumbledore could not hold the dark wizard off for long. Harry scanned the dark and dank room for some kind of weapon, anything that he could use to protect those he loved. When Harry's gaze reached the fireplace that had born him to this situation, he noticed a rusted stand containing several old, dilapidated fireplace tools. Harry quickly rushed to the stand and withdrew an equally rusted poker. It seemed a feeble weapon indeed, but Harry had little alternative.

He raced toward the fray before him raising the poker high above his head. Moments before Harry could strike he felt the unmistakable sensation of a wand poking him in the back. A strong hand seized Harry's wrist and shook the poker loose from his grip.

"Now, now," drawled a voice in his ear. "we cannot have you sneaking up on the Dark Lord now can we?"

"Of course not," sneered a second voice from the shadows. The second figure emerged from the darkness to stand in front of Harry. It was Umbridge looking as mad as ever. "I believe it is time we disposed of Mr. Potter, Lucius," she said in her usual girlish tones.

Malfoy's grip on Harry was intensely strong, and he knew that he had no hope of breaking it. Instead of struggling, Harry relaxed. Umbridge was in his face now, her bulging eyes searching his own with a look of pure lunacy. "Well Potter, that hag on the floor couldn't get the best of me, and neither shall you!" she spat.

"You may kill everyone who has ever stood in your way," Harry responded defiantly, "but you will never get the best of me. You certainly have not gotten the best of Professor McGonagall."

"Oh really?" Umbridge laughed maniacally. "It is not I who is lying in a pool of my own blood. My desire to see your dear professor hurt and broken is nearly complete. Rest assured, Potter, that once you are dead she will follow."

"Our deaths will still not grant you the superiority you think you have," Harry explained boldly. "No matter what you think about yourself, about what wrongs you think have been committed against you, the truth is _you_ folded. _You_ gave in to evil. _You_ have allowed it to enter your heart and fill you up. It was not Professor McGonagall or even Fudge that did that. _You_ are the only one that can take the blame for the failure you have become." Umbridge was trembling with a nearly tangible rage. Harry did not break eye contact with her even when she forcibly grabbed his chin in a vice-like grip. As her fingernails dug deeper into his skin, Harry could not resist one last attempt to infuriate her. "You said Professor McGonagall was hurt and broken, but only in her body. I have no doubt that her spirit is as strong as ever. After all, she never gave in. You will never be better than her."

Umbridge released him roughly. She cast Harry one more malevolent glare. "Lucius," she commanded, "kill him."

"My pleasure," Malfoy drawled in the same manner as Harry had heard in his dream. As Harry glanced imploringly to Dumbledore to help him, he realized that his headmaster, distracted by his battle with Voldemort, had not even realized that Malfoy and Umbridge were still in the room. However, Harry also noticed that since he had ceased his struggle against Malfoy's grasp, the Death Eater had lessened his hold considerably.

Harry kept his eyes on Umbridge. Her disgusting laughter grew louder and louder as what little sanity she had retained ebbed away. Harry could feel Malfoy's wand pushing deeper into his back. _Just wait_, Harry thought to himself. _Hold on, wait until the time is right._ A deep intake of breath from the man behind him was Harry's cue to act.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"Lucius Malfoy yelled just as Harry spun away from him and out of his grasp. The crazed laughter had not quite died from her face when the curse struck Umbridge in the chest. Her expression drained of all life and she was dead before she hit the floor.

Harry seized his chance to once again arm himself as Malfoy stared with disbelief at Umbridge's body. Harry retrieved the poker where it lay unceremoniously at Malfoy's feet. With a sharp upswing he struck Malfoy just above the elbow. Malfoy's wand flew away from the pair as Malfoy cried out in pain.

"You little rat!" the Death Eater shouted furiously as Harry coiled back to render another blow. It was ironic that two wizards had been reduced to a physical struggle for their survival. Harry swung the poker once more, but Malfoy ducked it easily, throwing Harry off balance. Harry felt Malfoy's boot make contact with his knee sending him to the dust-laden floor. Like a predator moving in for the kill, Malfoy sprawled upon Harry pinning him to the ground. A familiar numbing sensation began to creep into Harry's arms and legs. Harry's injuries from the quidditch accident were beginning to overtake him, as the effort involved in the struggle was draining the energy from Harry's body. Malfoy was trying to wrestle the poker from Harry's weakening grip while straddling the young man, his knees on either side of Harry's torso. The weight of Malfoy sitting on his chest was pushing the air out his lungs. Finally, unable to control his fingers any longer, Malfoy ripped the poker from Harry's hand and forced it down on his throat. What little air Harry had still been able to take in was robbed of him completely.

Malfoy's normally pale face contorted with anger and grew red with his fury. "I am going to squeeze the life out of you, Potter!" he spat. "You should have taken the Killing Curse!" Harry's vision was growing black and an intense buzzing filled his brain, however, tentative movement flashed out of the corner of Harry's eye.

Before Harry could realize what was happening, Lucius Malfoy was being blasted off of him. The Death Eater flew backwards and struck the wall. He slid down it to settle in an unconscious heap on the floor. Harry's eyes darted to where the curse had originated. Harry knew that Professor Dumbledore was busy trying to keep Voldemort at bay and could not think of who had come to his aid. Harry had to shake his head so his swirling vision could make out who had saved him. His realization forced a gasp to escape his burning lungs.

Standing before him with her wand arm outstretched was Professor McGonagall. She was swaying dangerously upon her unsteady feet, her other arm still hanging grotesquely from its socket. McGonagall's body was trembling uncontrollably now and the wand she had been holding aloft shook lose from her hand. It fell with a clatter to the floor and Harry watched as it traced a path through the dust. Harry's eyes soon traversed upwards once more, however. He stared dumbstruck into her face, but her gaze did not meet his own. She remained transfixed on Malfoy's crumpled form. When she opened her mouth to speak the sound that escaped was hoarse and disheartening, but full of contempt and confidence as well. "Never anger a Scot," McGonagall croaked defiantly.

A sudden cry of pain caused Harry to whirl around to face where he knew Professor Dumbledore and Voldemort were battling. A well-placed curse seemed to have made it past Dumbledore's defenses. A deep gash had appeared on Dumbledore's shoulder and he reflexively clutched it as he fell to his knees. Voldemort seized this opportunity to disappear in a whirl of his cloak. Dumbledore stumbled to his feet and was making his way over to his two students and colleague.

"Albus," McGonagall managed weakly. She was still on her feet but seemed in imminent danger of collapse. Dumbledore was hurrying to her as fast as possible, but something made him abruptly halt. A completely horrified expression dominated his face as he peered at the woman he loved. Harry followed the Headmaster's gaze to see what had so unnerved him. Harry's eyes lit upon a sight that made his own heart fill with fear. Voldemort had reappeared and was standing directly behind Professor McGonagall.

"I WILL NOT BE DENIED MY VENGEANCE!" Voldemort howled frantically. He extended his hand toward McGonagall. "CRUCIO!" he yelled.

McGonagall fell instantly to the ground. Harry made to move forward to help her, but one glare from Voldemort caused his scar to sear with pain. He stumbled backward as though a pair of hands had shoved him and fell. Professor McGonagall convulsed violently upon the dusty floor. Her agonizing screams filled Harry's brain with such a sense of disturbed hopelessness that it threatened to dissolve his sanity. Dumbledore was making no effort to hide his misery now. He raised his wand toward Voldemort preparing to strike, but Voldemort seemed to sense what the wizard was about to do.

"She and I are connected now Dumbledore!" Voldemort screeched. "If you try to kill me, it is she who will die!" At this point Voldemort clenched his hand into a fist. McGonagall's legs drew up further into her body as the pain she was suffering intensified to another level.

"Please," Professor Dumbledore whimpered but kept his wand trained upon his counterpart.. It hurt Harry to see him so distraught and vulnerable. "Please," begged Dumbledore quieter still.

"Her agony can end Dumbledore," Voldemort stated in an uncharacteristically benign sounding tone. "You know what I want." Professor Dumbledore's eyes traveled to McGonagall's body. She was no longer screaming, her body evidently beyond that capability.

"Come now old man," Voldemort prodded. "It is you who is prolonging her suffering. Surrender to me, there is no other way!" Dumbledore once more peered into Voldemort's face. His extended hand relaxed allowing his wand to tumble away. Harry noticed how ancient his professor suddenly looked. The lines of age and sadness dominated his face. Dumbledore had been beaten. A twisted grin pulled at the corners of Voldemort's mouth, "Very good, Headmaster," the dark wizard taunted. Professor McGonagall was no longer rigid as she was lifted from the spell.

Harry's mind was a jumble of images. The pain in his scar had lessened somewhat, but he could not focus. On his hands and knees, Harry crawled across the floor trying to find Professor McGonagall despite his stupor. He was surprised when his hand lit upon something quite unexpected. As Harry's fingers enclosed around the discovery the fog in his brain lifted, strength slowly returned to his body.

"I thank you for your trust in me," Voldemort continued as Dumbledore sank to his knees.

"I beg you," Dumbledore whispered, "do with me what you will, but please, let her pain ease. Do not hurt her anymore."

"Do not fret, I am a man of my word," sneered Voldemort. "I said she would not suffer any longer once you surrendered to me. This you have done, so I will keep my end of the bargain." Professor Dumbledore sighed and nodded his head resignedly. He looked to the ground and only looked up once Voldemort had continued. "She will join you in whatever hell awaits you!"

"NO!" came an enraged voice escaping from Harry's mouth. He leapt to his feet to face Voldemort one last time. "It is not going to end this way!"

"Oh really, Potter?" Voldemort ridiculed surveying the wand Harry had discovered and now aimed at the evil wizard's chest. Voldemort abandoned Professor Dumbledore momentarily and strode arrogantly toward Harry. "You might as well put that away," he said nodding at Harry's wand, "it will not work on me, remember?"

Harry's heart sank. It seemed ages since he had felt the wand in his grasp. Now he had forgotten how useless it had become to him. Voldemort was impervious to any spells his wand cast. Harry lowered his wand slightly and stared at it lost for words.

"A Gryffindor may be brave, but I never found one with much brains," Voldemort laughed. "But if you are feeling insistent Potter, I believe I can accommodate you!" Voldemort's nose was mere inches from Harry's own now. He again held his arms wide confidently. "I will grant you a free shot, Potter. Go ahead! Do what you will, then it is time for this game of cat and mouse to end. Dumbledore only bought you borrowed time, but soon I will claim you as the trophy to my victory!"

If Voldemort had expected Harry to crumble at these words, he was sorely mistaken. Harry had quite the opposite response. The most meager of smiles pulled at Harry's lips. He raised his wand once more and placed it upon Voldemort's chest. Voldemort looked down upon it and grinned menacingly. His eyes flashed contemptuously into Harry's, daring him to proceed.

The smile faded from Harry's lips as he uttered the curse he never thought he would use, "Avada Kedavra." It came out barely a whisper, and Voldemort's smirk remained unchanged. Yet, slowly Voldemort's eyes widened in disbelief.

"This cannot be," he said, his words screaming confusion and bewilderment though his voice remained subdued. Voldemort reached out and grasped the front of Harry's robes, and as the most evil wizard of the age fell, his face warped with a pained expression. The body hit the ground with an unnerving thump. Harry placed a foot lazily underneath Voldemort's prone form and kicked it over to look into the fallen man's face. His eyes were open, but they were clouded and empty.

Harry sighed earnestly. "This is not my wand."

"Minerva?"

Harry spun around. Professor Dumbledore was cradling Professor McGonagall tenderly in his arms. Harry inched slowly toward the pair. Dumbledore's eyes were unable to retrain the emotions that had built in them. His tears were flowing freely and he gently stroked McGonagall's face. First her forehead, then her cheeks, he brushed her hair back.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore called once more. Harry could see her stir at the sound of his voice and respond to his touch. Finally her eyes fluttered open, but they seemed heavy and Harry could tell that she was struggling.

"Albus," she smiled weakly. "I knew you would come.

"I am sorry I did not come to you sooner, my dear," Dumbledore lamented.

"Shhh," Professor McGonagall soothed. She gingerly reached up and traced her thumb over his lips. "You are here now, that is all I need." Harry could feel the lump rising in his throat and it seemed likely to block his airway. For a while, no one said anything. It was as though time was holding onto the moment. Eventually Professor McGonagall's face went slack, her eyes glazed. "I'm tired, Albus," she said softly staring into nothingness.

Dumbledore swallowed hard but then managed a feeble smile. "Rest your head, go to sleep," he said faintly.

"I am afraid to close my eyes, Albus," McGonagall whimpered as her voice broke. "I am afraid that I may never wake up. I am afraid that I may never see your face again."

"I know," the older man whispered softly. "Go to sleep, my love," he repeated.

Harry could feel his own tears dripping from the end of his chin. He stood by helpless as the woman before him seized uncontrollably in Dumbledore's arms. One last great rasping breath escaped her lips before her body went limp in its embrace. Harry sank to the ground as his own sadness and despair consumed him. Dumbledore remained transfixed upon the face of the woman he held. Harry could see Dumbledore's expression slowly cave in to grief. He clutched McGonagall's body all the more tightly to him as he rocked her back and forth. Professor Dumbledore leaned his cheek onto the top of McGonagall's head as a great wail of anguish and torment erupted from his very soul. As if beckoning her to come back to him, Dumbledore threw his eyes upward as his cry rose echoing to the heavens.

"MINERVA!"


	12. Remember My Love

**What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is**

**Disclaimer** All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

**Summary: ** Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

**A/N:** I know I said that there would be thirteen chapters, but instead of having two short ones I combined them to have one longer one. So as they say, all good things must come to an end. I must say I am sad to see this story end. I have enjoyed writing it so much that it seems like I am having to say goodbye to an old friend. I am dedicating this chapter to Quill of Minerva. One of her reviews gave me such a profound bit of inspiration that thanks to her, this chapter holds what I consider one of my best pieces of writing I have ever created. A thousand thanks to all of you who ever reviewed! Because I so enjoyed reading the reviews I have included a little bonus at the end of the story to say thanks! And hopefully you'll get a chuckle out of it like I did. So to Quill of Minerva, Lou. McGonagall, mugglemin, Lanzer, Tabbymin, Silver Lily 77, Joelpup62, duj, Maxwell Coffee House, PiroKitty, Aurinko, E.W/H.D's Best Friend, Liat1989, DoomGazeHell, Jen2281, Nightwing509, Amandah Leigh, BlindJedi, Lady Urquentha, EJC, Neoma, and ancient-memories, I wish you peace, happiness, and a future as bright as you can make it.

**Chapter Twelve: Remember My Love**

It had been six months since that fateful day in the Riddle House. Harry was now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It seemed almost a foreign idea to him that this was the first and only school year that he would be able to enjoy without the constant threat of Voldemort looming over him. He would no longer have to suffer pervasive dreams. He would no longer have to contemplate a future that may or may not exist. His future was certain now. Though what that future would bring would always be a mystery.

Ron and Hermione had been slightly upset with Harry for leaving them behind when he had gone to face Voldemort alone. Though Harry had not been alone. Neville had fulfilled his own unknown destiny. Harry could not help but think that Neville had been the true hero and he smiled to himself as he remembered his initial conversation with Professor Dumbledore regarding the prophecy.

_"It means – me?"_

_Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses._

_"The odd this is, Harry," he said softly, "that it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."_

_"But then...but then, why is my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?"_

_"The official record was relabeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child," said Dumbledore. "It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sibyll was referring."_

_"Then – it might not be me?" said Harry._

_"I am afraid," said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him great effort, "that there is no doubt that it _is _you."_

But Professor Dumbledore had been wrong. It was true that Harry had been the one to deliver the final blow, but it was Neville's presence that had made it possible. The wand Harry had discovered obscured in the shadows that night had been Neville's, not his. The moment Voldemort had arrogantly allowed Harry a chance to vanquish him, was the moment Harry's brain recognized the wand Neville had shown him after the confrontation with Draco Malfoy. Voldemort only saw a holly wand. However, this holly wand contained the heartstring of a dragon, not Fawkes' tail feather. The protection Voldemort had assumed via the Valiturus Draught could not withstand the spiritual incompatibility of Neville's wand. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord had been Harry by result alone, it was Neville who had made this destiny attainable. Neville had proven himself a true Gryffindor. He had snuck out to help Harry, and this he had done to the salvation of all wizard-kind.

The smile that had crept onto Harry's face slowly began to fade. His thoughts turned lovingly to Professor McGonagall. She had become his savior of sorts. She had given him hope for the future, and it was Professor McGonagall that helped him realize that grief was just another part of life. She had helped lift him out of the depths of despair when his self-torment over Sirius's death had threatened to consume him. He remembered the sensation of her touch as she had so gently caressed his hand with her own that night on her office floor. Grief and loss made the happy memories all that more sweet to remember. But as he ran his fingers over his hand where McGonagall's had done, he realized that perhaps the greatest gift she had given him was the knowledge he was loved for who he was, not for what his destiny may hold.

"Harry?" a soft voice said breaking him out of his musings. Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione staring at him. Ron had grown even taller, if that were possible, and Hermione was as beautiful as ever. His two friends approached him. Ron offered an understanding smile, and Hermione's eyes brimmed with tears. "Were you thinking about her again, Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded as he reached up to wipe a fallen tear from her cheek.

"I thought there would always be a Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts," Ron declared with a sigh. "At least until long after we'd graduated."

Harry gazed into the faces of his two friends and nodded meekly. "Things change," he said softly. "Is it time, then?"

"Yes," Hermione replied.

"Then I had better go find Professor Dumbledore," Harry explained.

"We'll see you inside mate," Ron said squeezing Harry's arm.

As Harry reached Professor Dumbledore's office and the gargoyle jumped automatically aside, he could not help but think he had come full circle. So many times Harry had made his way to this office to seek help and support from his Headmaster. It was ironic that this time it was Harry who was offering the support. Harry entered the office without knocking and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting slouched over his desk. He had his Pensieve before him and was gazing into it with a curious expression.

"Sir?" Harry asked quizzically.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore replied automatically.

"What are you looking at?" inquired Harry.

"Come and we shall take a look," the Headmaster invited. "It applies to you as well." Dumbledore extended his hand to Harry. The young man hesitated momentarily before grasping it. Both men turned to the Pensieve. Dumbledore indicated Harry should go first. Harry plunged his face into the silvery substance inside the Pensieve. He could feel himself being drawn into it, and by the time Harry had opened his eyes Professor Dumbledore had appeared at his side.

Harry peered around him to determine where he was. To his left Harry saw the fifty-foot high quidditch rings. To his right was Hogwarts castle looming out of the mountainside. Straight ahead was the lake and Harry was not surprised when he saw Professor Dumbledore standing on its edge. Harry glanced up at the real Dumbledore at his side. His expression was oddly blank as he stared at the shadow of himself. Harry inched his way up to the past Dumbledore. This Dumbledore scanned the water's surface, his face too seemed oddly blank. A jumble of voices near the castle caused Dumbledore to glance in their direction. Harry followed his gaze and jumped slightly when he saw himself and Ron approaching down the path that led to the quidditch pitch.

"Of course," Harry said turning to the real Professor Dumbledore. "This is the day of my quidditch accident, isn't it?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied simply.

"That means Professor McGonagall is..." Harry whirled around again to find that indeed his Transfiguration teacher was creeping toward them. Her face was stoic, but focused. Professor Dumbledore had long since returned his gaze to the lake and did not realize that he was being approached. His hands, which had been clasped behind his back, fell limply to his sides and his shoulders slumped. McGonagall was nearly upon them and Harry stood back to get out of her way. She hesitated momentarily, her eyes engrossed on Dumbledore's hand. Finally she eased her fingers into it.

"Albus?" she inquired softly. The Headmaster finally closed his hand around hers and turned to face her.

"Minerva," he greeted distantly.

"Is it true?" she asked. "Is it true, Albus? I need to know." Dumbledore would not answer her, or look her in the face. "Look at me," she prompted softly. When he did not respond, McGonagall placed her fingers underneath Professor Dumbledore's chin. Harry could see tears cascading silently down both of their faces as McGonagall guided his chin to force him to look at her.

"Is it true you still love me?" Professor McGonagall asked with an unmistakable note of pain in her voice. "Is it true you never stopped loving me? Tell me, Albus. Tell me, please, I need to know. I have to know."

A sudden, great rasping sob escaped from Dumbledore. Harry was surprised to see him so openly emotional. When he had witnessed this scene the first time around he had been too far away to catch everything that had transpired. Harry glanced up at the real Dumbledore. He was still surveying the scene quietly, but the blank expression that had adorned his face had melted away to a small smile.

"I thought I was protecting you," memory Dumbledore muttered. It seemed the situation was too much for him to bear. He made to quickly flee, but McGonagall had apparently been suspecting this. She grabbed his wrist and made him face her again.

"No more running, Albus!" she cried vehemently. "Do you not remember what it was to have my love? Do you not remember that I would have given up it all to be with you?" Dumbledore was looking so completely dejected that Harry could feel a pang of sympathy envelope him. "I understand why you made the choice you did all those years ago, do not run from me again."

"I still love you, Minerva," the Headmaster explained. "My love for you has never known an end, but I am afraid."

"Afraid?" McGonagall asked more sympathetic now. "What are you afraid of that we could not face together?"

"I am afraid of me," Dumbledore replied, the anguish in his voice evident. "My God, Minerva! I broke your heart. I did that! And I did it twice! I always told you that I loved you more than life itself, but I betrayed your love! I did not tell you the truth! I ran from the best thing I ever had because it was easy."

"Easy?" McGonagall inquired furrowing her brow. "Albus, I can see how you have suffered with regret, it hasn't been easy for you. I don't think it ever was."

"I may have regret, but it was easier than facing the thought that I may lose you. Some Gryffindor I turned out to be," he said shaking his head. "I took the coward's way out, Minerva. It was easier to break your heart than to face what might happen. I am so sorry. I will always love you, even if I am without you. But I am scared that I may hurt you again. I never want to hurt you again."

Professor McGonagall stepped closer to Dumbledore and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Albus, I know your trust in yourself is little, but I love you. Do not keep running from me because of what you think you might do in the future. If you do that you will be committing the same mistake again! But this time, you will be doing it to yourself." Dumbledore had relaxed into her embrace and the sobs that he had been trying to stifle, gently shook his body.

"Oh my dear Albus," Professor McGonagall soothed. "I can look past your mistakes to see the man behind them. Let yourself do the same. I will never pretend that it will be an easy road, but see beyond the failures. See beyond the hard times. You can do it, my love, I have faith in you. Travel the winding road, Albus, and you will find the woman who loves you waiting at the end with open arms."

Harry was finding it hard to focus clearly on what he was witnessing. His eyes were sparkling with tears as the corners of them burned uncomfortably. Harry swallowed hard to try and loosen his tightening throat. He wiped his eyes beneath his glasses as McGonagall cupped Dumbledore's head in her hands. "Remember my love," she said and kissed his forehead.

Professor Dumbledore pulled gently from McGonagall's embrace, but stroked her cheek tenderly. "I remember," he said softly. "I'll always remember." With that Dumbledore presented her his arm. She smiled sweetly and encircled her own around it. As Harry watched the two professors turn to walk at last toward the quidditch arena, he could not suppress the grin that spread across his face when he heard his own triumphant, "Woohoo!" echoing in the distance.

"I think it is time to go, Harry," a voice whispered in his ear as a hand encompassed his shoulder. Harry turned to see the real Professor Dumbledore smiling softly. Harry closed his eyes and felt himself being pulled out of the Pensieve. He landed with a soft thud and found himself once more in Dumbledore's office.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Sir," Harry stated gratefully.

"No, thank you, Harry," Dumbledore waved him off. "Thank you for opening your heart to me so that I could once more see into mine."

A soft chirrup from Fawkes drew Harry's attention. Harry stared at the Phoenix. The bird was gazing at him with an intense expression. Harry suppressed a chuckle when he thought it reminiscent to one of Professor McGonagall's famous stern glares. Professor McGonagall.

"Sir," Harry suddenly remembered, "we need to go."

"Is it time already?" Professor Dumbledore inquired raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," replied Harry. As Harry and Professor Dumbledore exited the office Harry thought back upon his time at Hogwarts. It had been filled with many ups and downs, but somehow it had always seemed the good had outweighed the bad. When Umbridge wrought tyranny inside the school, students and teachers had stood up to her. When Voldemort threatened destruction, there were those who had dug deep inside themselves to find strength they never knew they had. When Harry had suffered loss after loss, there were those who surrounded him with love. Yet, with each reflection Harry came to realize that no experience or memory would compare with what he would have to face today.

Harry and Dumbledore paused outside of the Great Hall. Dumbledore was taking deep breaths, preparing himself for the emotional onslaught that lie within. "You know," Harry began, "Ron said that he thought there would always be a Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts. I have to admit I always thought the same. I never would have guessed this day would come."

Dumbledore smiled softly and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. "I know," he stated quietly. "Nor did I." He released Harry and as he pushed open the magnificent doors to the Great Hall, he echoed the sentiment that Harry had shared earlier with Ron and Hermione, "Things change."

The Great Hall was overflowing with people. Harry could hardly believe the turn out. The entire Weasley clan was there. Mrs. Weasley was already sobbing uncontrollably as Mr. Weasley comforted her in an one arm hug. Ron looked at his mother with a kind expression and he reached over to give her hand a squeeze. Hermione, who was on Ron's other side, held Ron's other hand. Harry also noticed Hagrid, clutching a handkerchief the size of a table cloth. His beetle-black eyes already red and puffy.

Professor Dumbledore and Harry walked silently toward the front of the Great Hall. Where the head table normally would have been were dozens of flowers. Indeed, what little space was not consumed by witches and wizards,held indications of Professor Sprout's handiwork. Dumbledore ascended the few steps at the front of the room with Harry still at his side. He turned to face the assembled crowd.

"Thank you all so much for coming," Dumbledore greeted. "Your support means so much to me." But the professor was unable to continue as rose petals began to fall beautifully from the enchanted ceiling. Dumbledore's eyes were gazing upward. Harry, however, began to smile warmly as the enormous doors opened again to a sight that brought everyone to their feet and many gasps from the crowd.

Severus Snape had entered the Hall and Harry could hardly believe the smile that enriched his features. It seemed to soften him greatly, but there was no surprise why the Potions master was acting as he was. On his arm was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever seen. In a long, white gown accented in many golden embellishments was a teary-eyed Minerva McGonagall. Her own smile shined like stars and Harry's heart filled with such joy he thought it may burst. She strode proudly up the aisle to meet the man she could not take her eyes off of. Harry for the first time took note of what Dumbledore was wearing. His dress robes were a beautiful midnight blue also holding many gold embellishments arranged in Celtic designs.

As Snape presented her arm to Dumbledore he quickly placed a small kiss on her cheek. She grinned contentedly back at him. Dumbledore too showed his respect and thanks for Snape as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You had better get going," Snape said in an uncharacteristically soft tone. "Hagrid may start blubbering soon." Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall glanced at Hagrid and could not hide their chuckles. Dumbledore guided McGonagall the remaining way to the front of the Great Hall where Madame Bones stood waiting for them. Harry stood back and watched the proceedings with overwhelming happiness.

The ceremony was short and sweet. Hagrid did indeed begin blubbering, but his sobs were short in rivaling Molly Weasley's and Madame Pomfrey's. Shaking his head, Snape offered Madame Pomfrey his handkerchief. Fred and George were eyeing their mother with a mischievous glint in their eyes. But for Harry the moment his two professors turned toward one another was the greatest of all. Dumbledore held her face in his hands and gently stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. He looked expectantly at Madame Bones.

"You may kiss the bride," the officiant chuckled.

Dumbledore again turned his loving gaze to his new wife and whispered, "I'll remember." With that he pulled her forward and placed a tender kiss on her lips. McGonagall wrapped her arms around him as the witnesses began to clap and cheer uproariously. Harry glanced down to his two friends. Hermione was also crying now and leaning on Ron for support. Ron, on the other hand, was widening his eyes to the size of saucers as the newlyweds prolonged their kiss. Apparently the thought of two professors being intimate with one another played heavily on his mind. Harry could see him turn to Hermione and mouth, "So instead of a McGonagall we have _two_ Dumbledores? Bloody hell." Hermione slapped him playfully as the professors broke apart at last.

"May I introduce," Madame Bones declared brightly, "Mr. and Mrs. Albus and Minerva Dumbledore!"

* * *

_Four years later..._

"Harry get back here!" cried a familiar stern voice.

Harry turned around to see a small boy with black hair and twinkling blue eyes look up from the wriggling frog he was holding. The three-year-old dropped his captive and went teetering to the open arms of one Minerva McGonagall-Dumbledore.

"Yes, Mama," the little boy cooed in a soft voice. His mother bent down to scoop up the youngster into a loving hug. As she cuddled him she placed a tender kiss on his cheek.

"Mama and Papa are very busy so we need you to be good boy today, okay Harry?" the Transfiguration teacher smiled. The young Harry nodded vigorously and squeezed his mother's neck.

"What's the matter, Professor?" Harry asked slyly sneaking up behind them. "You can strike fear into the hearts of many a fifteen-year-old, but can't keep a three-year-old in check?"

"Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall-Dumbledore said sharply, but when she turned to face him her face shown with joy. "Just you wait young man. You'll see." She enveloped him in her arms. "It is so great to see you!"

"Same here," Harry replied. Harry was back at Hogwarts to attend another happy occasion. It was the graduation of the last member of what Harry had considered "his team." Euan Ambercrombie was no longer a tiny, hesitant teenager, but a tall and confident young man.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" asked a new arrival. Professor Dumbledore placed his arm gently around his wife's shoulders.

"_Papa_," said little Harry in an exasperated tone, "this is Harry Potter!" The little boy was surveying his father with a look of pure amazement.

"Oh! Thank you for telling me," Dumbledore said in a convincing response. His eyes twinkled madly. "Where is your young family, Harry?" Dumbledore said looking at his former student again.

"We're right here," chimed in a sweet voice. Harry turned lovingly as his wife and newborn son approached him. Minerva stepped forward and placed a kiss on Ginny's cheek.

"So good to see you too, dear," Minerva smiled. Suddenly, the professor's face softened and she sighed audibly. "Curious," she said faintly as the smile returned to her lips.

"What is it, my love?" Professor Dumbledore inquired.

"What do you see?" she asked nodding at Harry, Ginny, and their baby. Dumbledore narrowed his eyes for awhile. He seemed confused. He was not following to where his wife was trying to allude. Then a sudden dawning of comprehension drew the twinkle back in his eyes.

"Lily and James," he said quietly. Minerva nodded.

Harry knew exactly what they were talking about. It had long since entered his heart that the happiness he had been able to carve out for himself had echoed that of his late parents. Harry had always heard time and time again how much he looked like his father. It was perhaps poetic justice that he married a wonderfully sweet woman who had the same red hair as his mother. Their son completed the picture with the same untidy black hair that his own father and grandfather had. Harry knew that his son, Brian, would have a much brighter future to look forward to though. Voldemort was gone, and every child whether it was Brian, or little Harry, or Ron and Hermione's baby Anna, would be able to grow up in a world consumed in the strength that all of their parents had fought and suffered for. It was in love and friendship that they would be able to trust their futures. It was the power the Dark Lord had known not.

* * *

_"It means – me?"_

_Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment through his glasses._

_"The odd this is, Harry," he said softly, "that it may not have meant you at all. Sibyll's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, both born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Neville Longbottom."_

_"But then...but then, why is my name on the prophecy and not Neville's?"_

_"The official record was relabeled after Voldemort's attack on you as a child," said Dumbledore. "It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Voldemort could only have tried to kill you because he knew you to be the one to whom Sibyll was referring."_

_"Then – it might not be me?" said Harry._

_"I am afraid," said Dumbledore slowly, looking as though every word cost him great effort, "that there is no doubt that it _is _you."_

_ -Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_, Chapter 37, "The Lost Prophecy", pgs. 841-2, American edition.

* * *

Just one last note for all of you who thought I had killed Minerva off... 

FOOLED YOU!!!

Seriously though, I have to say that I was clapping at my computer with fiendish glee when I read the rviews for chapter eleven.

* * *

Okay now here is your little bonus. As I have said repeatedly I immensely enjoyed and appreciated all the reviews. Some of them were quite hilarious, so... 

**TOP TEN REVIEWS FOR "WHAT A STRANGE AND MYSTERIOUS THING IT IS"**

10. Tabbymin - chapter 10: "O... MORE pleazy pleaz!

9. PiroKitty - chapter 8: "Ack... Oo Voldemort has a new ally? Another evil cliffie! Please continue! I'm anxiously waiting for more. "

8. Joelpup62 - chapter 10: "Ahh! No Harry should be like, "ok bye Voldemort" and then kick him or something. Dumbledore, where are you? Minerva needs you. Ok I just had to get that out, and please review soon."

7. Maxwell Coffee House - chapter 11: "Sobs uncontrollably..."

6. Liat1989 - chapter 7: "Yay! he told her. Then Dumbledore and McGonogall will get married and live happily ever after with Harry as their adopted son. Or not."

5. Quill of Minerva - chapter 10: "I am wearing gloves for the next few chapters now... Oh no...poor Minerva and poor Harry but where in the name of Merlin is Albus!"

4. BlindJedi - chapter 6: "Another excellent chapter. I love how you handled the quill situation. Still wish you wouldn't make Hermione suffer with Ron. Just because you think J.K. hates Hermione that much doesn't mean you have to. :) Oh well, sigh. Regardless, still like this story a lot."

3. BlindJedi - chapter 5: "Uf, great story so far. I really hope though that you don't make Hermione suffer too long with a person whose only thoughts in life are of Quidditch, chess, food, chess, Quidditch, ways to skive off homework, oh and did I say food and Quidditch? However, this is still a good story. I really hope that you write more soon."

2. Amandah Leigh - chapter 7: "and THAT is where you left off?!?!?! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?!?! Auugh! I need to know more, and THAT'S where you left off? I'm dyin' over here! Dying!

Okay, I feel better now. I took a few deep breathes, drank some Pepsi, put on some chamber music, and now I feel better...But still, omg like that's not a clffhanger (and that WAS sarcasm!) I seriously hope you plan to update soon! I mean, understand that you JUST updated and w/ 's troubles ppl aren't necessarily getting author alerts and all that, so you may want to wait until eveything is really smooth again...But don't. update asap! :) lol"

Drum roll please

And the #1 review for "What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is"

1. Lou. McGonagall - chapter 11: "OMG! How could you do that! No warning, no nothing! ('calm down Louisa, you ARE calm, collected and under control...) That's so incredibly unfair...poor Albus and poor, poor Harry. I can't believe this has happened.  
Great story though, and a very unhappy twist. God, here come the tears... :(  
I hope this isn't the end!"

Thank you all again for the millionth time.


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